Tom Riddle's Sister
by Beautiful space
Summary: •"I may look feeble, Potter, but I sure as hell aren't." I snarled. Potter growled at me. "Just who are you? You're an ordinary kid, but damn it- you are nothing but the Devil himself!" I blinked, trapped in a whirlwind of emotion. I'm never going to see my brother again.• AU: Tom Riddle had a twin sister who Time forgot. Fifty years after, a boy named Tom Riddle attends Hogwarts.-
1. Prologue: A Deal With The Devil

**A/N: This is a rewrite of my original fan fic in . Hope you enjoy!**

**Cast Notes:**

**Katherine aged 8-13: portrayed by Frederique De Raucourt**

**Katherine aged 14+: portrayed by Asli Tandogan**

**Tom aged 8-13: portrayed by Hero Fiennes-Tiffins**

**Tom aged 14+: portrayed by Christian Coulson**

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><p>Tom and I were the twins of the orphanage.<p>

A very simple statement to describe our remarkably mundane life.

We were often bullied by others merely because of the fact that we were different- and we knew that very well. We were two of the three children that were born into the orphanage- the vast majority of the others having been brought into the abysmal orphanage when abandoned by their parents. Tom and I were birthed by our mother, Merope Gaunt, on the Summer of 1926. Our nurses often look back on our past with nostalgia, claiming that they'd never seen such quiet children. We were often told that we were the best behaved children at the time and were often adored and called handsome. As a result, I was often mistaken as a male child due the aristocratic features that my brother and I shared. As we grew up in the harsh place, we were taught discipline not by loving words and lessons as parents would, but by the stick or hand. We were familiar with the burning pain that the wood brought us and, as such, learnt not to cross with it again by behaving.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

You see, there were many unexplained incidents that revolved around us, the Riddle Twins. We were bullied before, but I aided Tom in turning the tables. Of course, that is not to say that I was in the background- goodness, no- I played just a major role as Tom had in many of the rendevous that we had went through in the orphanage.

Of course, when we were but mere children we weren't consumed by the darkness- yet. We had fun like others and there was not a single time when we left eachother's sight. I was but a mere five year old when the orphanage required me, as the second eldest, to go out and get groceries. Even then, though it was not Tom's job, my brother always went with me. However, London was a dangerous place to be a girl, so I had, at my own insistence, cut my hair.

I looked like Tom's mirror image.

He had whined, moaned, done every form of tantrum possible, but I kept cutting my hair so that I looked like a boy until I was not required to go out anymore, as Martha- the assistant- had been hired. At the time, when there was no more fun left to do when we were allowed to leave the orphanage, Tom had finally realised how much he had missed doing our double act with me as a boy, but it was too late. I could no longer cut my hair with the Matron's permission unless I had a death wish. I had to grow out my hair and Tom still looked back at those times with a small amount of yearning in his eyes.

Then there was magic.

Tom and I were never the same again. It just...happened. Our teacher had been furious at us for correcting his work and demanded that we walked up to the front to get caned. But Tom and I stood our ground, and defied him. The teacher walked up and yanked my hair, forcing me to follow him before Tom used his magic to make my hair slip through his hands like gel. It wasn't long before the teacher was thrown across the room, with our hands in front of us as though we had just pushed him physically. Since then we had known- simply _knew_- that we were special. That happened four years ago, when we were seven. Ever since then, we had been terrorizing the children at the orphanage (though I had put down set limits that Tom rarely crossed- until the cave and Billy's rabbit). Only recently had we received our Hogwarts letters, but the visit from Dumbledore was something that I could not discuss as of yet, because Dippet demanded our attention with the tapping of his spoon.

"Students, the sorting hat will organize you all into houses. Please do not object and go to your colour- coordinated table." Dippet announced. The man was the Headmaster, but he was a puppet. Dippet was attached to Dumbledore like the strings of a marrionette- he was afraid of making a wrong move and continually asked the deputy about his opinion. The reason why was unknown. We were just as in the dark about this as the other houses. We were at a loss as to why the man would trust the childhood best friend and lover of the infamous Dark Lord Grindelwald. As such, the prejudice against Slytherins grew. Unfortunately, Tom and I were certain that we were cut out for the house. Ravenclaw was our second option and our last resort would be Griffindor. We would _never_ go to Hufflepuff, though it was no secret to the orphanage that I was softer than Tom was- and therefore an easier target.

" Alson, Marcus!"

" Ravenclaw!"

" Bridge, Ingrid!"

" Slytherin!"

" Clowda, Charles!"

" Griffindor!"

" Ditch, Selena!"

" Hufflepuff!" My brother snorted. But the list went on and we became more and more apprehensive about our own sorting. Eventually, the list neared the surnames that began with 'R'.

" Richardson, Elena!"

" Griffindor!"

" Riddle, Katherine!" My name was announced. I stumbled through the crowd.

_How elegent._

Then, when I had made my way through, I righted my posture and attempted to look like Tom did around others. I caught his eye and he gave me a sharp nod. He never showed his affection for me in public- he feared that it could be used against him. For all people knew, we could just be strangers to one another if it weren't for our second name and almost identical appearence- such was the alienation between my brother and I. However, behind closed doors, we were as close as any other sibling would be if their brother was their twin and was the only remaining family left. It was no secret to Tom that I loved him dearly, and would be heartbroken if he happened to die or feel hatred for me. I knew that Tom loved me also- it was shown in his protectiveness, but sometimes he would acquire a strange crimson colouring in his eyes whenever he was angry or thinking of revenge. I never thought much of it, but I had started to notice a pattern- he usually became more violent whenever his eyes were coloured crimson. I was shaken back to the present and gave a quick nod in return to my twin and turned to the sorting hat. I sat down and it was placed on my head.

" Why, a pair of twins! The first we've had in a decade!" The hat commented. " Griffindor won't do for you- you have a fear of darkness and heights... Ravenclaw would suit you due to your intelligence- my, how like your brother... Hufflepuff would also suit due to your loyalty and respect for your only family..." I could almost imagine Tom's sneer at me once I thought of the house of loyalty and hardwork. I knew that he would bully me if that happened in public-but our private relationship would be left unknown to me. With this in mind, I started to panic. It turned out it was unnecessary and was quickly quelled when the sorting hat whispered the next few words in my ear; words that sounded like music. " But you have the calculating wit of a Slytherin. You are quick and sharp when you want to be, but Slytherin is certainly the place for you." I closed my eyes.

" Slytherin or Ravenclaw, Slytherin or-"

" SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted.

Uncertain, I pulled the hat off and passed it to the Transfigurations Professor (who I remembered as Professor Dumbledore) and journeyed toward the house of the Snakes, sneers, hatred and disgust painted on their faces. I attempted to sneer back, but only managed a grimace. I sat down at the end of the table once it became clear that no one was willing to help me out.

" Riddle, Tom!" All eyes were now on Tom. He swallowed and got up, putting up his mask of arrogance. He made his way through the crowd and some people even put out their legs in an attempt to ruin his cold, arrogant and rather intimidating entrance by tripping him up, but he swiftly kicked their legs and they retracted them, wincing in pain as they nursed their foots.

_Served them right._I thought, filled with conviction and self-righteousness.

Eventually, he reached the sorting hat. His face was impassive, but his eyes were frantically searching for mine. Our eyes locked and I gave him a small smile. I nodded. He nodded in return and let out a breath. The sorting hat was lowered onto his head. The second the disgusting hat touched Tom's head, it shouted out Slytherin. His new housemates looked at him with varying degrees of contempt. Tom made his way to the dark green table, ignoring the glares and hostility directed at him.

I let out a breath of relief.

We were together.

That was all that counted.

•••

After that, my brother and I stayed with the other sibling. We sat next to each other and we shared answers in assessments and tests. I soon found out- to my mortification- that we weren't allowed to share rooms unless you were of the same gender and year. Tom and I had already captivated our professors with our profficiency of magic and our intelligence, so it didn't take long for Dippet to succumb to Tom's charm and allow us to have our own room to share. As per usual, I had often felt envy for my elder brother, but he had always told me that I had some other kind of gift- a charm that was diverse to his- that could be equally as effective. However, when I had asked, he claimed that I was too innocent to fully understand and comprehend what he was talking about. Musing on those thoughts, I walked down to our room after a quick trip to the toilets and gently pushed the door open before flopping onto the lower bunk. Tom stuck his head down from the top bunk.

" Where did you go?" He asked. I sighed and fell back on the bed.

" The restroom." I replied. He eyed me for a second longer before climbing back up. He was still awake, I could tell, but I wanted to know why. " Are you okay, Tom?" I called, uncertainty colouring my voice. He sighed and poked his head down again.

" I'm fine. Nothing you need to worry about." He answered, his tone light. An hour later, I heard soft snoring. I couldn't sleep- but I wasn't allowed to use potions unless in the infirmary. Moments later, I heard Tom's laboured breathing and thrashing about in the mattress above.

"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" He shouted. I got out of bed and climbed up the ladder to his bunk. His hair was slick with sweat and his face was pink. His striped pyjamas were ruffled and he was constantly on the move. But what got my attention was that his movements were restricted- as if held by chains. I hopped into his bed and sat next to him, pondering whether I should be merciful and wake him up or leave him to be energized for the coming day with his sleep. I chose to wake him up. I shook his arm.

" Tom?" I hissed. " Tom?!" He did nothing to show he heard me." By Salazar, you are a heavy sleeper." I murmured. Just then, I remembered my strange ability to speak with snakes.

•••

My six year old self sat outside, isolated whilst Tom fought in the back ground with Billy Stubbs. I played with the dirt, making shapes and small mounds with it when a snake came into view. Startled, I jumped back, frightened. The snake made its way closer, inching nearer and nearer to me.

' Thank you for freeing me from the dirt prisson, ssnakeling.' It hissed. I felt my lips moving on their own accord.

' You're welcome, ssir.' I replied and watched as it slithered away.

•••

' Tom? Wake up.' I commanded in this strange language. His movements stilled and his eyes snapped open. I jumped back, startled, but quickly disguised my fear.

His usual sparkling- green eyes had turned blood red.

He opened his mouth to speak.  
>' I shall give you the chancce of a life time, ssisster.' He bit out. It looked like a strange force was commanding him to say things he didn't want to.<p>

' What chancce?' I replied, the rest of my body paralyzed with fear.

' I am Lord Voldemort, the pressently unknown dark sside of your brother. I shall return ssoon. Remember my offer, ssisster. I shall return.' He said.

' But you gave me no offer!' I exclaimed.

' I shall tell you when I return.' He replied. Quaking with fear, I yelped when his body shot into a sitting position. But I stared into his eyes and saw the calm, sparkling green with in his iris again, with a tint of fear.

' You sspoke with Voldemort, didn't you?' He was also trembling. I nodded, hesitantly. He shakily pulled up the duvet and moved over, his back to me. Whilst to some, this movement may look like an act of defiance; to Tom it was asking if someone could join him. I knew who he was- I had lived with him for eleven years, for heaven's sake- but I also knew that these moments were rare and that Tom- my protector, my elder brother-also needed to be protected from his own demons, too. So I climbed onto the mattress next to him and pulled my side of the duvet over us. I hesitated, but leaned over my sleeping brother.

" Sweet dreams, Tom." I whispered into his ear. With a satisfied smile, I settled back into my own position-I preferred sleeping on my right, the same as Tom, which was why the fact that he had rolled over to his left was a little strange-and finally closed my eyes.

Just as I wavered between my world and the gate of Morpheus' realm, I dimly registered a whispered voice filled with love and conviction.

" Sweet dreams, Katherine Merope Riddle." I realised that Tom had been awake all this time- but it was too late. Slim arms slipped around my side in a loving embrace just as the blackness consumed me.

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><p><strong>AN: How did it go? Better than my previous one? Or is the other one better? Or, if you're feeling vindictive, do both of them suck?**

Sneak Peak:

_" Words that were often used to describe Tom and I were often something along the lines of 'Demonic' or 'the Devil's Spawn'."_

_" I understood Tom's reason why he wanted me right next to him- our 'house mates' looked like they wanted to murder us on the spot, the only thing preventing them from doing so was the fact that they were in such a public space."_

_"I'd suggest that you discourage your favouritism from blinding your opinion of us, Professor Dumbledore," I hissed. "Tom is an excellent student- and though we haven't made the best of first impressions- I'd rather you judge my brother based on his knowledge and intelligence rather than his house."_

_"Fifty points from you, Miss Riddle, for your lack of respect to authority."_

End Sneak Peak:

**I hope you enjoyed :) Pretty please review- Tom will give you a huge hug if you do!**


	2. Chapter 1: Fighting Fire With Fire

**A/N: Not sure if any of you are enjoying this, but I did get at least one review who chose to be vindictive.**

_**Guest: **Hello to you too! *Waves* I hope you are enjoying this Fanfiction thus far, though I would discourage you from using profanity as I have a profanity filter up and my account does not accept anonymous reviews. I only just got to see your review, and it was a pleasure to read. Really._

_It it was meant to make me feel bad, then I'm afraid it had the opposite effect. I did give you the choice to give praise, constructive criticism or just flame me, but I am actually glad that you chose to review._

_The fact that you had gone through all of that trouble just for that one, short review tells me how much you truly care for the quality of my work. I am flattered that you wasted your time reviewing me when you could have instead chosen to click that back button, though it seems like it has a Muggle repelling charm on it (what a shame) so of course you wouldn't be able to go back._

_If you'd like to correspond, then please do log in and refrain from using such profanity, as it was not me who deleted it (I'd actually be glad to have at least a little feedback) but actually Fanfiction itself that had. _

_Thank you, and I congratulate you if you managed to read thus far._

_Ah, as I promised, I said that Tom Riddle would give hugs to anyone who reviews, and since I count yours as one although it has been deleted, Tom will give you one anyway, just out of pity._

_Again, if you choose to respond, then do it via the login button, just ask me to 'Finite' it and I'll remove the Muggle repelling charm on it for you :)_

_Love you,_

_~ Annika_

**To those of you who are still reading this, you all rock! Thank you to:**

**- Cytryne **

**- Nacanaca **

**- aspygirlredo**

**For Favouriting- you all get a box of Chocolate Frogs and a hug from Tom Riddle!**

**And:**

**- Cytryne**

**- Nacanaca**

**- aspygirlredo**

**- pinkmonkey36**

**Tom Riddle has spared you all and has given you an invitation to his Manor for a conversation about your first day at Hogwarts over a cup of warm pumpkin juice :) If you'd like a (willing) hug from him, then just review :)**

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><p>I awoke to the sunlight hitting my face, my memories pleasantly hazy and my body recharged and ready for the next day. I turned over and saw Tom, his face unmarred of any imperfections. He looked angelic; innocent of the horrors that the world was so full of.<p>

The thing that the world didn't know was that Tom was the source of all of that suffering.

With that thought, the memories of the previous night hit me like a tsunami, my mind slightly dizzy by all of the implications that this... Voldemort had unknowingly brought upon revealing himself to Tom and I. I spared my twin brother another searching look and noticed traces of fatigue before choosing not to wake him up. I climbed down the bunk and looked through our schedule before nodding to myself and preparing our bags. We had the same lessons throughout the entire timetable, so there were no worries about getting anything confused. First was Transfiguration. Then we had Potions, Defence against the Dark Arts and Charms. We had Flying in the evening. I frowned, staring at the final subject. Why would we need to learn how to fly? Do we have wings that I was unaware of? I snorted. Probably not. But there must be a reason why I never see hovering witches and wizards all over Britain. Perhaps we used some sort of contraption that enabled us to fly? Why would we need to know how to fly anyway? I shook my head as I organised our bags for the school day, contemplating how our first day at school would go. I sincerely hoped it would do well. I was all too familiar with being acquainted with the whip at school and Tom had not been pleased at best though he always went through punishments with me. Most of the time it was due to magic.

Then again, we weren't exactly the best behaved of the children at the Orphanage. Words that were often used to describe Tom and I were often something along the lines of 'Demonic' or 'the Devil's Spawn'. I shuddered as I recalled the exorcism that they had tried on us. When it failed, the priest ordered the matron to put us through a week of starvation, alienation from the other orphans and neglected giving us water. But despite all of that, the worst thing was watching Tom deteriorate right in front of me. We both knew who was the more powerful of us, and it wasn't me. But because of that, it meant that Tom needed more food, water and energy in order to tame his magic. We had each other through out that week of hell, but it wasn't enough. He was dying right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it _unless_ the week passed by. I was lost to the outside world as I remembered the sheer hopelessness I felt as I watched Tom die, convinced that I was going to be a solitary orphan- a twin ripped away from her brother. The pain was agonising. I withstood the week, but Tom couldn't. I remembered watching him writhe in pain- _such terrible pain_- on the floor. His body was so thin, so sickly... The comforting magic and aura of safety, familiarity and love I usually felt radiating off him had diminished, barely there but flickering within him like the faint afterglow of fire on wood. The embers were fanned as he became worse and worse, his hair matted and greasy- something which I thought never happened to Tom since he always looked pristine- and his green eyes dulled, ringed by bloodshot eyes. The intense hunger that he had felt throughout the week intensified, and he often dreamed of having feasts. I knew I looked equally as bad. I had caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and smashed it into pieces, always averting my gaze from the window or any other sources of reflection. I knew I was narcissistic, but my vanity was a flaw that I had failed at getting rid of. I obsessed in looking at myself in the mirror, always pinning my hair this way and that, wondering if my eyes would look prettier if I batted my lashes or fluttered them. I admit I am not perfect, though I pretend to be.

And I know that the truth will be discovered someday.

A surge of guilt flooded throughout me as I recounted the screams that flooded the room.

Those screams all came from my elder brother's throat and I couldn't do anything about it.

I was shaken out of my musings when I felt a rigorous shaking on my left shoulder, followed by a hazy call of my name when my brain allowed me to fight out of the grasp that the flashback had trapped me in. I blinked twice; my eyelids heavier than lead, before my eyes peeled open and were rewarded with the sight of Tom staring at me, green optics filled with worry and love.

Whoever said that green eyes mean jealousy and hatred was obviously wrong.

Almost immediately, he knew what I had recounted once he saw the pained look in my eyes.

"It's gone, now, Katherine." His eyes were hard and flint-like as he glowered at me. I swallowed, knowing that he had been reminded of what he had gone through and blamed me for causing him to remember. The silent vow that we had made was broken, its only condition- never to remind the other sibling of what had happened in the orphanage- blatantly torn down. He stood up and turned before leaving the room to go to the adjoining common room just outside the room. I knew that he was angry at me for forcing him to recount it, and I count not fault him for leaving the room in cold silence, but I still felt a small sting within me. I smothered it with the best masks that I could before I bowed my head and closed my eyes, recounting those terrible screams that gave me nightmares for years.

•••

Breakfast at the Great Hall was awkward, to say the least. Tom was still as silent as ever next to me, but the other Slytherins looked upon us with disdain, as though we were worse than the dirt under their filthy shoes. I wrinkled my nose at those thoughts before finishing off my last bite of salad and standing up to leave in order to go to the library. Tom smoothly grabbed my arm and pulled me down. I made no comment and sat down next to him, watching him as he finished off his pancakes. I understood Tom's reason why he wanted me right next to him- our 'house mates' looked like they wanted to murder us on the spot, the only thing preventing them from doing so was the fact that they were in such a public space. I spared a glance at Tom, silently asking why their disdainful attitude had been earned, but he had already finished and was looking at the Slytherins instead, his eyes narrowed.

_This should be interesting._

"Is there a reason why you're all staring at me or am I more beautiful than the last time I looked in the mirror?" He asked, his voice sarcastic. Our housemates looked as though they had swallowed a sour lemon whilst I fought to contain my smirk and instead used the emotionless mask that I had built through the years. Tom gave no sign that he had recognised my attempt at covering my amusement.

_So far, so good._

"Don't delude yourself with your vanities, Riddle." A blonde boy- _Abraxus Malfoy_, my mind supplied as I remembered his sorting- sneered, staring at Riddle as though he were a common pest. I snarled, my dam broken.

"If anyone was vain, Malfoy, it would be me. I'd rather you insulted me rather than my brother because he is worth more than your pathetic hide. I bet that he's more important than all of you so called 'Purebloods' and Slytherins put together," I snarled. "Just you wait until class. We may not be Purelood, but Tom will best you all and one day, you will all come simpering back to kiss his feet."

"Then we shall wait until then." Malfoy finally said after a long moment of levelling me up. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in.

I had admitted one of my faults to a housemate.

_What if it was used against me?_

I spared a glance at Tom. He was staring intensely at me- as though he had never seen me before- or perhaps like I was a particularly valuable gem in a Jewellery shop. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my head bowed and staring at my intertwined fingers clasped loosely on my lap, the previous night coming back to me as I remembered his blazing glare.

_No! Forget about that! Focus on something else..._

Tom grabbed my hand. I finally looked up. He beckoned me closer. I began to feel a little anxious. The last time Tom had done this was when we were at the beach, just after Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop- of who were the only other siblings in the orphanage despite being only step siblings- had made fun out of me. I knew that Tom had done something or another to them because they were mad enough to be carted off to Bedlam, but I was secretly both disgusted and touched. Those two conflicting emotions had warred within me for ages onward whenever I remembered. I was touched because Tom had cared so fiercely about me, but I was also disgusted because of the lack of response I had given after Tom had ignored the restrictions I had set.

_No harming other orphans..._

_Only give them what they deserve..._

"I'll talk to you in the library." He whispered once I had finally leaned close enough for him to transfer his message. I pulled away and nodded, momentarily distracted by our jovial professor who had conveniently decided to stop by Tom and I.

"Professor Slughorn." Tom and I greeted our Head of House at the same time. The Slytherins looked a little unnerved at our simultaneous greeting to the professor, but the stupid man hadn't noticed the terse atmosphere.

"Ah, my best Potions Students. Polite as ever, Tom, Katherine." He nodded and gave a smile to Tom that made his already wide face look even more unappealing. His straw-like hair clung unattractively to his round face, his rotund figure decked out in silks and furs. Merlin knew the man was disgusting. He took a deep breath- one that almost popped the buttons off his waistcoat- and gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace.

_Sexist idiot._

Tom's smile looked forced, fake and saccharine.

"Thank you Professor, though I must admit that Katherine was the one with the most ability. She is the best at Potions, after all." He stated, his voice full of false sweetness. The Professor looked momentarily disorientated, blinking at Tom slowly, as though he had never seen him before. His sweaty, large hand slowly ascended to his balding, greasy head of hair before it scratched at the patch.

"Of course, my dear boy. Katherine is also competent." Tom looked like he wanted to snarl at the teacher, but the Professor only gave him a knowing smile. "After all, it is the boys who have it all, eh, Tom?" My brother's eye twitched, but he maintained his polite facial expression.

"Of course, sir." Tom abruptly got up, pulling me up in chain reaction, ignoring the rest of his pancakes before we walked out of the Great hall, my hand in his.

"I never knew you were a feminist, Tom." I said, my eyebrow raised as we journeyed along the corridors.

"I'm not," He answered, his voice amused. "I only ever stood up for you because you are the only person that means something to me. Family stays together, correct?" He said, though his last sentence made his voice tremble. Family is a sore topic for us, knowing that our mother died giving birth to us and the fact that our father had abandoned us without a backward glance at our pregnant mother. I gave him a sad smile.

"Correct." I answered, feeling as though a stone had been dropped down the pit of my stomach. Seeing Tom like this was rare. I hated seeing him in sadness; it felt almost as though I could also feel it. I squeezed his hand before he shook himself out of the reverie his mind had him trapped in. He gave me an indulgent smile and opened the library double doors- had we really been that quick?- before entering the dusty room of ancient tomes.

•••

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore hated us.

Period.

He ignored us as we persistently put our hands up- though it may have something to do with his first impression of Tom- and he always decked points from us whenever we did the slightest of things.

"Can anyone explain to me the most basic spell used to levitate objects?" Tom and I lifted our hands up. Dumbledore's eyes skirted across our hands, though we made no attempt to wave it around like a lunatic. If he chooses to ignore us, then so be it. We shall do no more- just remain in the classroom with our hands up. "Anyone? No? Well, the spell incantation is called 'Wingardium Leviosa'. The wand movement is a swish and a flick. Repeat after me: Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The class repeated dutifully. Tom and I, on the other hand, did not even put much effort into it.

"Mr and Miss Riddle, ten points each for your lack of enthusiasm." Dumbledore said bluntly, his periwinkle eyes dimming and holding dislike.

"We did nothing to warrant your pitiful justification for your hatred toward us, _Professor_." Dumbledore's title was said with such contempt from Tom that the Transfigurations teacher's permanently twinkling eyes narrowed.

"Ten more points from you, _Mister Riddle_, for your lack of respect to your teacher." Dumbledore countered. The Slytherins were starting to glare at Tom. He did nothing to acknowledge their hatred, but held his tongue anyway.

Unfortunately, I wasn't about to let Dumbledore have the last word or allow him to humiliate my brother without my intervention.

"I'd suggest that you discourage your favouritism from blinding your opinion of us, Professor Dumbledore," I hissed. "Tom is an excellent student- and though we haven't made the best of first impressions- I'd rather you judge my brother based on his knowledge and intelligence rather than his house."

"Fifty points from you, Miss Riddle, for your lack of respect to authority."

"You cannot deduct anymore points from us, Professor. We already reached zero by the time you deducted ten points from Tom." I said, a smirk on my face. Dumbledore pursed his lips and turned away from us, choosing to ignore us instead. Tom exchanged a glance with me, a small thanks in his eyes. I nodded to acknowledge it.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Both Orion Black and Timothy Littlewood- a Muggleborn- hissed at us, though for differing reasons.

"You've already lost all of the points that Slytherin worked so hard to achieve!" Orion continued, a sneer on his face. Timothy had a grotesque look on his face-one that resembled a lion seeing its prey- like the Griffindor he was.

"For your information, Black, I was the one who got Slytherin all these points in the first place. You can not condemn me for losing the points that I myself had gained. If you wish to release your anger upon me, then do it some other time when I am not in the mood to think of creative ways to kill you without magic." Orion opened his mouth to intervene, but Tom had already turned to me. "Say, Katherine, how does sawing his tongue off with the axe that Mrs Cole makes us use when gathering firewood sound?" Tom asked, a malicious smile on his face. I smirked, a sugar sweet tone to my voice.

"Perfect, brother dearest. Shall we invite Littlewood, too? It's only courtesy, after all." I answered, the look on my face filled with mock-innocence. Tom gave me a light smile, as though we were discussing the weather. I felt my lips turn up into a genuine smile, my eyes on his. He gripped my hand from under the table before turning to the boys with a sneer on his face.

The two of them had turned a pale white. Luckily for Black, he had gotten the message- we weren't someone to be trifled with. Unfortunately for Littlewood, he had recovered almost immediately.

"You're just Slytherin scum. You think you're so above us Griffindors, but you're not. I'll teach you not to insult Dumbledore." He hissed, his voice eerily like Parceltongue. We were nonplussed, however, only raising an eyebrow at his fuming expression. Once he saw that, he snapped. He slammed the textbook open to a different page, quickly reading the text before whipping his wand out and flicking his wrist. "Adflictio maledictionem!"He spat.

Now, Tom and I could have deflected it in a heartbeat, but Dumbledore was watching this whole ordeal intently. We weren't idiots- he could go to the headmaster and expel us if we used so much as a 'protego'. We could duck, but it would hit Abraxus Malfoy and we'd be condemned by the Malfoy's father for allowing his heir to get hurt. We had to tread carefully around Dumbledore- the only thing we could do was gain the headmaster's favour and ensure that he trusted us just as much as- if not, more than- Dumbledore. But for now, all we had to do was hope that the spell wouldn't harm us. Tom pulled me into his arms, his arms encircling me before he placed his chin on my head.

"What's the spell, Tom?" I whispered, fear in my voice. I regretted withholding from reading ahead in the textbook. Looks like stupidity would always be my downfall. Tom frowned.

"It's a borderline dark curse. It's brings pain and torment to whoever is hit by it-"That was all I needed to hear. I looked up, fear in my eyes before a resolution took over, and pain at the remembrance of my brother's suffering at the orphanage controlling my body. Tom recognised the look immediately, but I pushed him away and onto the floor before turning around to face the curse just as it hit. "NO!" He screamed.

I closed my eyes to the wracking pain before collapsing to my knees, dully feeling the sensation of someone holding my arm in a vice grip.

Pain, pain, pain- red hot pain.

I heard a scream somewhere in the room- or was it me?- but I couldn't bring myself to wonder on it.

More screams- but this time there was someone else screaming too, chanting a name.

"Kat! Oh God, please, if you're up there-"

More words- over and over. Dulling and getting more distant with every second that went by as I desperately tried to latch onto them- to give myself a sense of reality.

_Just stop! Please! I- I can't- I can't-_

Agony, fire and ice- and at last, darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Again, what was your opinion? Would you like to give praise, constructive criticism or a flame? Though if you chose to be vindictive, then please refrain from using profanity and log in.**

Sneak Peak:

_" Sunlight that filtered through the Black Lake lit the walls with an eerie, pulsating aqua green light hit Tom's face, making him look like some sort of water-God._

_Poseidon, My mind supplied, as I recounted the countless mythology books Tom had taught me how to read from. Or Neptune."_

_"Swear it, Tom. Swear that you'll put yourself before me in any and all situations- because I'll be damned if you die," Here my voice broke, "just to save me."_

_" Every single time I thought of the dreaded orphanage, the rumours that had plagued Europe kept circulating throughout my head._

_There's going to be a Second World War..._

_A new leader is rising..._

_His name is Hitler..."_

End Sneak Peak:

**Ooh, a little hint as to what Tom and Tia would be going through...**

**I hope you've enjoyed, and don't be scared of that response to 'Guest', I'm not like that. **

**Tom is still holding out for that hug... Better catch it- it's not everyday a Dark Lord willingly offers to hug you- much less a younger, attractive one ;) Review if you want it! **

**Love you all,**

**~Annika**


	3. Chapter 2: The Luck Ends Here

**A/N: Not many reviews, but I don't blame you lot. I hope you weren't scared away by my response to 'Guests' review.**

_**To fanfictionfan1990: **I'm glad that this is your first :) Thanks for reviewing; you truly are a star * It's okay, I read through your fics and I can assure you that your OCs are not Mary Sues :) Thanks for informing me of that- although I have changed Tia's name to Katherine. And Here you go, I've updated :)_

_**To Summer Leigh Wind: **Thank you- and I've already addressed all of those points through PM- though you have been an invaluable beta. And thanks for informing me of the fact that Tia's name is an anachronism, I've changed her name to Katherine, now :)_

**My favouriters:**

**- Chuu112**

**- Cytryne**

**- DannyRaven Lover**

**- Nacanaca**

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**And my followers (Oh God, never saying that again- I feel like Voldemort :S)**

**- Chuu112**

**- Cytryne **

**- Nacanaca **

**- aspygirlredo **

**- cup'o'tea **

**- pinkmonkey36**

**Tom Riddle has given you all a hug. An invitation to Riddle Manor (with an Unbreakable Vow not to kill, harm or use you XD) has been sent to you all by owl mail.**

**A REMINDER: TIA MARGE RIDDLE IS NOW KATHERINE MEROPE RIDDLE TO MATCH THE TIME PERIOD. I HOPE YOU ALL DON'T MIND THIS CHANGE, SINCE IT IS DONE QUITE EARLY ON IN THE STORY, BUT YEAH. CHEERS! :)**

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><p>I awoke to the stone ceiling in me and Tom's dormitory, momentary confusion filling me.<p>

_Pain. I remember pain. _

I shuddered, my muscles groaning in protest.

"Tom?" My voice was little more than a rasp. I cringed, but swallowed in a desperate attempt to call my brother without exerting my body and causing me an ache- a distant echo of the pain I had felt only moments before. "Tom?" I was louder this time, my voice carrying through the room and reverberating off the walls. My brother immediately entered the room; dressed in the only clothes we had apart from the school robes- the orphanage uniform. A sneer was present on his face and I couldn't fault him for the loathing he had on his face for the meagre clothes he was wearing. The second his eyes lifted and met mine, however, his whole demeanour changed.

He became the brother I knew my whole life.

"You called me?" He asked, his voice concerned. He climbed up the bunk bed, somehow managing to remain looking graceful, before sitting down next to me, his head tilted in such a way that made his neatly combed hair fall into his right eye. Sunlight that filtered through the Black Lake lit the walls with an eerie, pulsating aqua green light hit Tom's face, making him look like some sort of water-God.

_Poseidon,_ My mind supplied, as I recounted the countless mythology books Tom had taught me how to read from. _Or Neptune_.

"Kathy?" His voice shook me out of my musings and his face was contorted with worry. I licked my lips and rasped out a word.

"Water." When Tom made to get up, I grasped his hand with the little energy I had and battled against that ache that had been dormant for the time I had remained still. "Stay. Please." I whispered. He gently but firmly slid his hand out of my grasp, giving me a pitying look.

_Don't pity me, Tom. You'll be like the others. Like those matrons who think I'll forgive them if they coddle me._

_Don't be like the rest._

"I'll be back, Kathy, I'll be back before you know it. Don't be afraid- I'd never leave you." He reassured me. I almost trembled in hysteria.

"You won't. I know you won't. Not unless you promise me you won't die." I stammered. The moment Tom's face became closed off; I knew I had overstepped the line again. I prayed that he wouldn't get angry, my throat closing up. But he must have seen something in my eyes as he examined my face for any insincerity because I saw his face begin to soften.

"I won't die. God knows I'm terrified of death, anyway."

"Swear it, Tom. Swear that you'll put yourself before me in any and all situations- because I'll be damned if you_die_," Here my voice broke, "just to save me. I'm not worth anything- you're worth twelve of me." Tom looked strained, but didn't answer. "_Swear it. Please!_"

Tom looked conflicted, but eventually answered with a strained voice:

"I promise. I swear it. I swear it on my magic." He whispered, his voice filled with conviction. I finally went lax, my body relaxing once I heard his promise.

"Okay. Okay." I whispered, trying to convince myself that he would be back unharmed. Tom gave me a shaky smile before leaving the bunk bed, his footsteps light until I heard the heavy creak of the door closing. I closed my eyes, imagining the torment that I could have gone through if I hadn't had Tom.

If I had been an only child.

No doubt the man who tried to touch me years ago would have succeeded. He'd called me a pretty little thing, his favourite comment being how 'alike emeralds your eyes are'. I shuddered at the memory; briefly recounting the indescribable relief I'd felt when Tom had stopped the man by pushing him down the stairs. I was too overcome with solace from Tom's presence to have chastised him- albeit weakly- for murdering a man. He hadn't fallen without vicious satisfaction, however, since he'd tried to pull himself back to the brink by clawing at Tom's hands. Tom had avoided them, but gained a small scratch on his palm- one identical to the one that the man had given me earlier when I'd skirted around him.

What I didn't know was that the murder of the paedophile had invoked the darkest, foulest of magics to come alive when Tom and I fell asleep in the same cot that night, our scars touching and our limbs tangled.

Our life after that wasn't exactly top-notch either. By the time that we had hit eight, the Great Depression had affected Britain also, despite its origins in America. Our meagre rationings of food had been reduced to a pitiful quarter-slice of bread, with a sparse amount of jam on it. It was at around this time that the usually harmonious time in the orphanage had become dangerous. Children fought over one another to have the most amount of food. Everyone was starved to nought but skin and bones and over half of the orphanage was suffering from Anaemia. What didn't help was the fact that we were born only years after the First World War and Britain was still in shambles over the conflict. This meant that people were still afraid and were often dedicating their time to recuperating England back to its original state. But there were still whispers- tainted fear- that a second war would arise.

Every single time I thought of the dreaded orphanage, the rumours that had plagued Europe kept circulating throughout my head.

_There's going to be a Second World War..._

_A new leader is rising..._

_His name is Hitler..._

_Stop it!_ I thought to myself. _It's not going to happen- and you're going to look like a fool when it turns out that Germany and England will get along famously in the next decade or so!_

Even then, however, doubts still filled my head. It gave me an uneasy gut feeling that the rumours were going to be proven correct and that Germany would, indeed, rise up again with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aryans in tow, Hitler in the lead.

Tom entered the room, an apologetic smile on his face. I immediately manoeuvred myself up, propping myself up into a sitting position.

"I'm sorry I took so long. We couldn't get you to the hospital wing because Dumbledore refused the damage inflicted on you," Here his expression turned stormy. "Timothy Littlewood got out of his punishment with little more than a slap to the wrist, but I will ensure that he will get what he deserves." I waited for the rush of gratitude toward Tom and disgust toward the Muggleborn who dared harm me, but instead only weariness filled me.

"Don't bother, Tom. He's not worth your time." I rasped back. Tom's face turned into one of shock before it became hurt.

That I did _not_expect.

"So what you're alluding to me is the fact that I am restricted from doing what I feel is justice? That our relationship has broken because of _one filthy Mudblood_?!" He exclaimed. I released a breath of air.

"Tom, please. Not now." I pleaded. Tom pursed his lips but placed the water on the middle of the floor before turning around. But not before he threw another comment behind his shoulder.

"If you feel that his wellbeing is more important than yours then you are no more than a selfish girl who is related to me in nothing more than name. Do you know how much I cared for you? Do you know how furious I felt when I saw you on the floor- writhing in agony?"

"Tom, don't go-" He turned to face me again.

"Katherine, I watched you in pain. Someday you are going to oppose me if you continue with this traitorous behaviour and when that day comes I will be expected to kill you. Are you telling me not to care about you? You're being selfish, Katherine. You'd sooner die than see me in pain, but you don't ever take notice of the fact that I will always feel that agony in my heart for all of eternity if I see _you_ die."

"Don't you dare say that Tom, don't you ever turn your back on me." I whispered. "I care for you more than the world itself- hell, I'd gladly become a Squib for you- so don't ever say that I don't care for you again."

"Don't you realise that by throwing yourself in front of that curse, then all of this could be avoided?" He asked, his voice pained. I turned away.

"Better me than you." I said, bitterly. Tom turned away. He said one last thing before he left the room.

"If you want the water, then go and get it yourself. You need to understand, Katherine, that if you don't have me to make everything easy then you'd have to go through pain and torment to get what you want." He slammed the door shut and the room shook a little. I did nothing but stare at the lone glass of water, an unfamiliar, strange pain hitting me like a punch to the chest. I curled up as though it would make it go away before tears clouded my vision.

I didn't know what this strange emotion was, but the best word I could associate it to was heartbreak.

More like heart-shatter.

Indeed, my heart did feel like it had been torn apart and thrown to the floor like it was nothing more than glass. I felt like Fate had torn it out before breaking it and dancing on the vital organ. It hurt, it hurt so much. And whenever I thought of Tom, the feeling only intensified.

I didn't know how long I'd stayed there, but it was long enough for the dawning sunlight through the Black lake to turn into sunset and eventually silvery moonlight. The room was bathed in tones of mercury when Tom finally re-entered the dorm we shared, his expression unreadable. His eyes fell upon the glass in the centre of the room before they lifted to meet mine.

"I hope you've learned your lesson." He hissed, his voice equally as impassive.

Fear travelled up my spine like ice, each minute hair pricking up along my back.

"I expect an answer." I swallowed, but eventually nodded. The sudden movement caused me to go a little dizzy, but I didn't fall. Tom's face pulled taut like canvas over a frame. "A _verbal_ answer." I eventually worked up the energy to open my mouth.

"Yes, Tom." I whispered. "I've learnt my lesson." He lifted the glass in one fluid movement before climbing up the bunk bed. I felt apprehension fill me as he edged nearer and nearer toward me. By the time he was right in front of me, my neck was craned backward in a pathetic attempt to keep my distance from the boy who had changed so much. Tom looked vaguely perplexed before a cold look descended on his face yet again.

"There is no use trying to stay away from me, Katherine," His fingers found themselves on my chin, gently holding my face closer to his. I lifted my sheets up closer to my face like a five year old cowering after a nightmare. "I won't harm you unless you give me reason to." His words did nothing to reassure me, but I didn't dare move my face from his hands. They were a reminder- no matter how soft or gentle his hands may be- of how he could harm me in an instant. He gently pulled my face from my covers and pressed the rim of the cup to my lips. I immediately opened my lips and was rewarded with the water that had been sitting there for the whole day. Tom's eyes were on me the whole time, and my own optics were trained on his also. Terror kept me from trusting the boy in front of me, no matter how many times he had saved me. Eventually, the water finished and the refreshing liquid- who knew water could taste so sweet?- had been drained. I made a move to turn away, but Tom grasped my face again, his knees either side of my body. He was so close that I could see the tiny imperfections on his face- like the small burn on his ear for punishment when he gave Mrs. Cole food poisoning when he worked in the kitchens or the small scar on his forehead that looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt that he had gained from the crack of Mr. Wiley's belt. His lips were cracked and his hair was still neat, but somehow looked less flattering than it had at the beginning of the day. I could tell immediately by the exhaustion he kept masked beneath his mask of cold indifference that he had a school day today. Finally, my eyes made contact with his and I wondered how I'd missed it.

_Of course. Tom would never harm me. No matter what I'd done._

His green eyes looked normal- emeralds shining out, irises rimmed by black and framed with long, dark lashes that would make any girl jealous- except for the red that ringed his pupils. His pupils were suspiciously dilated and his irises also held flecks of ruby red. Whilst it wasn't the block-red colour that had completely shrouded his eyes two nights before, it was obvious as to who was the real cause for the suffering. Tom wanted me dependant on him- he was possessive, and I couldn't fault him for that since the man tried to approach me- but it was only to a certain extent. Earlier, he'd wanted to _own_ me, not protect me in the touching way that only Tom could. Tom would give me the world; the entity that had possessed my brother had cared for me, but only because he wanted me as someone to use or to take his anger out on.

"_Voldemort."_I spat, my voice full of spite. Tom- no, Voldemort- smirked, his face contorted in a way that not even Tom could achieve.

"Ah, sister dearest. I'd been wondering how long it would take for you to figure it out." He drawled, his nose only a millimetre from my own small, celestial peak. I snarled at the being, his eyes flashing in alarm once I pushed him off me, but rage filled his features and I immediately felt terrified.

"Don't." He pushed me back, my head hitting the wall behind me. I took a sharp gasp of surprise and pain once it made contact with the stone, sharp agony coursing through my head. "You." He was back on top of my legs, straddling my body whilst glaring at me. "Ever." His hands were around my own, my digits enclosed in an iron grip. "Do." His hands lifted my own ones up before pinning them up above my head on the wall behind me. I swallowed, fear causing my body to go lax, my every breath coming out in breathy, short intakes. "That." He leaned in, emphasising his point. His left hand left my left wrist, his right hand keeping my hands up above my head. "Again." His left hand was raised, and I cried out. Only to be cut short by a resounding slap of skin on skin, my cheek burning. He finally let go, his eyes finally holding satisfaction, the red bleeding through his emerald green eyes. My hands flew to the reddened cheek, tears already falling yet again. Betrayal coursed throughout me, though I knew that it wasn't truly Tom who'd hurt me. I wanted to meet Voldemort's gaze- to hit him like he hit me, but I couldn't bear the thought of marring my brother's skin. Though Voldemort may be harming me, I had to remember that it was, ultimately, Tom's body that he was residing in. I couldn't kill him for as long as I lived, and for that I resented him.

"I hate you." I spat, meaning every single word. Surprise overtook Tom's face before the red withdrew from his eyes- from the far off flecks at the edge of his irises to the crimson ring around his eyes. And eventually, that faded too.

Tom collapsed in front of me, his eyes closed and his body rigid. I let out a gasp, immediately worried. I felt guilt overtake me, but tried to justify it by mentally telling myself that I meant to say it to Voldemort.

_But Voldemort's your brother too, isn't he? He's just a little more cruel..._

I touched his hand and immediately withdrew it the second it made contact.

_So cold..._

But instead of shivering and trying to stay away from him to keep my body heat, I grasped his hands and pulled him into the bed, my teeth chattering lightly. I finally got him levelled up next to me before I tucked my feet behind me and kneeled. I pulled the covers over him and sat back down again, heaving his dead weight on top of me. I rubbed my hands together and placed them on his cheeks, hoping that the heat generated from the friction would at least be able to heat him a little, but I was sourly disappointed. With Tom's fragile body- for there was no other way to describe it; the only reason why he appeared so powerful was due to his posture and stance- curled up on my lap, I began to weep, anguish setting fire to my emotions like dynamite. He subconsciously started to lean into my body, seeking warmth. I leaned back and held his small body closer to me, drawing up his uncomfortable, freezing body closer to me. It felt like hugging a block of ice, but I held out and endured it.

_I owe him that much._

I finally fell asleep to Tom's rhythmic breaths and the play of silver light across the walls from the moonlight through the Black lake, dreaming of a better world where our parents were either alive or had never abandoned us- where our only worries was petty things such as our grades or friends instead of fearing for the life of the other twin.

_I have a dream..._

_•••_

"Tom?" It was dawn, I could tell that much by the amber light streaming through the lake and into the windows. Tom was still asleep, but his body was much warmer. I loathed to wake him up after such an episode- partly due to the fact of the trauma, partly because it was so early and it was the weekend and mostly because I didn't want to face him- but persevered anyway. He'd confront me sooner or later- or ignore me all together, which was much worse in my opinion- and demand answers from me. Ambient golden light played across my brother's features.

_And to think that I thought he looked like Poseidon_. I thought. _He looks like Apollo, now. The God of the Sun_.

"Tom?" I repeated with patience. I placed my hand on his cheek gently, being sure not to surprise him. He hated surprises- and I had the same opinion. Whether they were good or bad, they always had that nasty habit of sneaking information on you- rather like an unannounced test. We preferred to have a little foreknowledge. I shook his shoulder gently. "Tom, wake up. We have school today." He groaned a little before turning over. I only just managed to refrain from gasping. There were black veins spread out from his nape, his hair curled off over it. It had a twisted beauty to it, but I couldn't help but stare at the imprinted pattern- no, words- before they shrunk and vanished all together.

_I hate you._

The same words that I had cried out to Tom only the night before came back to haunt me. I desisted from shaking my brother and sat in guilty irony.

_Voldemort had the last laugh after all._

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><p><strong>AN: Hello! Yes, Tia is now Katherine. Hope you all got that. **

**Quick theme updates:**

**Tom's theme: See what I've become, by Zack Hemsey**

**Voldemort's theme: False King, by Two Steps From Hell**

**Tom Riddle's Lullaby: Davey Jones' Theme**

**Katherine's theme: Will be revealed when Kat meets Harry Potter. **

**Until then, guess which theme YOU think describes Kathy the most in your reviews- and Tom will give you a kiss :)**

**Pretty please review; Tom will give you a huge kiss an**


	4. Chapter 3: A Reflection Of The Future

**A/N: Hello again!**

**Special thanks to: ItsTheWhovian and JFC (X3)**

**ItsTheWhovian: **_Thank you! *Blushes* I've updated now. I love your profile pic by the way, Clara's my favourite companion! Hope I hear from you again :)_

**J.F.C:**_- Chapter One: That is an absolutely hilarious comparison! Thank you for your input, it is much appreciated. And I would tell you who Voldemort was, but that would ruin the entire plot..._

_- Chapter Two: Thanks for the alternate idea :) Unfortunately, I have a short amount of patience so I tend to end my stories abruptly. I'm hoping to drag out Tom and Katherine's first year for that reason until the ultimatum; when Katherine travels in time. :)_

_- Chapter Three: And yes, that was a good point- with her foolishness (which I'd purposely inserted in hopes that she wouldn't seem too 'Mary-Sue-ish') she would end up causing her brother to become Voldemort sooner than expected; the only question is when he'd take total control... :) *Gives a low whistle* I have a genius reading my story. I honestly am impressed. You've got it in one with your two possibilities, but I won't be telling you which one; sorry :( I would love to tell you, but that'd ruin the entire plot. I've updated, too :) Thank you for your insightful comments- I hope you'll review again soon :)_

**Tom Riddle has given you both a huge hug and a kiss (depending on which you prefer).**

**Again, much thanks to my favouriters and followers:**

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**Tom Riddle has already given these loyal readers an invitation by owl mail- unless you are a new reader. Hopefully your invitation will reach you swiftly.**

* * *

><p>As I had expected, Tom refused to even meet my gaze since that night. We awkwardly sat apart from one another, though we shared a table in every class- which was inevitable since we had the same surname and we were always seated according to the alphabet- but tried to distance ourselves from the other twin as much as possible. As of now, we still refused to meet the other's gaze. I sighed, fed up.<p>

"This is getting ridiculous. Tom? Truce?" I asked. He gave me a stony look, his face set with no emotion. But I could see a flicker of something- and for a second, I feared it would be Voldemort- but later saw it as indecision. He finally allowed his mask to break, his small smile shining through. He took my offered hand.

"Truce."

•••

I sat, bored out of my mind in the History of Magic class. The past few weeks had flown by like a whirlwind, my mind blurring past the huge tomes of information that both Tom and I had soaked in. I thought back to my Transfigurations classes and frowned. The next day we had Charms and did exactly the same spell. We tried to tell the Headmaster about it, but his eyes twinkled in an eerily Dumbledore-like way and he only tapped his nose, telling us to wait and all would become clear. We later found out what he meant when Dumbledore had not only taught us how to transfigure a match into a needle, but taught us how to do it when it was in mid air, casting two spells at once. I, grudgingly, had finally admitted that he was an excellent teacher if one excluded his severe favouritism. Tom poked my side and I was brought back to the present- but not before my gaze lingered on his nape for a second, remembering how those spiteful words had been inked onto the skin of his neck. I finally redirected my attention to the ghost who taught the lesson, his monotonous voice lulling me back into a daydream...

"Ouch!" I exclaimed. Tom had poked me again- but this time with the nib of his quill. I glared at him whilst he smirked, his green eyes crinkling in amusement.

"How do you expect to get an O if the only thing you do all day is sit there and daydream?" Tom asked, one eyebrow lifted in amusement. I pouted at him and his other eyebrow joined the first. "Don't pout, it is rather unbecoming." I rolled my eyes.

"You sound like Mrs. Cole when she runs out of her gin." I commented. Tom sighed and shook his head.

"You're not getting any notes from me..."

"That's not fair!" I crossed my arms. "You always let me copy your notes back in Primary school!"

"Yes, but that was because I knew that we were destined for something greater. I knew that we were going to leave that pitiful excuse of a school for ages." I refrained from rolling my eyes yet again.

"Party pooper..." I mumbled. Then- "OUCH! WHAT IN THE NAME OF MORGANA WAS THAT FOR?!" The stinging hex Tom sent at me was aimed at my right arm- and though I was a little bit ambidextrous (Tom taught me how when he broke his right arm and had to make do with his left) I still glowered at him for the punishment.

"Five points from Slytherin." Binns' voice broke through the classroom, interrupting me from dissecting Tom with my mere gaze. All of the Slytherins groaned whilst the Hufflepuffs tittered. I frowned at those ruddy badgers.

"Why is it your ruddy business if we lose points?" I asked the whole class. They were immediately silenced. "We can win them back, if you're so concerned about those childish points. It's not like there's going to be a punishment if we come out on the bottom." The class immediately placed their attention back to Binns- well, the population that weren't asleep, anyway- and those few Slytherins who hated us the most gave us a heated glare before doing the same as the rest of the class. I shook my head at their childishness.

"Thank you." It was whispered- so quiet that I almost thought it was never said, but I somehow managed to pick up on the quiet word of thanks.

"You're welcome." I whispered back to Tom, my face set in an expression of sincerity.

•••

It was the end of November and Christmas was approaching. Throughout all of this time, Tom and I had somehow managed to keep Slytherin's points on balance with Dumbledore's strange obsession with attempting to get us to lose points and the over friendliness of Slughorn- if accompanied with his sexist opinions that were rather rudely shoved into our faces. We'd been invited to a group known as the Slug Club- a small gathering of Slughorn's favourite students- in a room. We seemed to have 'hit the jackpot' as some say, since the date that the invitation specified seemed to have, coincidentally enough, coincided on the date of one of the monthly parties that Slughorn often issued. Tom and I had heard of various students' rendezvous throughout the night with the advantages that the club promised- most of these accounts having come from Slytherins themselves- but we weren't impressed. Slughorn had somehow managed to smuggle Firewhiskey and was allowing even first years to have a taste. Tom and I, being avid alcohol abhorrers since we were reminded of Mrs Cole, and subsequently the orphanage, had voiced out thoughts against the beverage and Slughorn had brought it down a little after buying a load of Butterbeer. The name of the beverage instantly had us on edge, but he promised that the liquid had no alcoholic content at all.

We made a word of promise never to drink it anyway- just in case.

Now, on the other hand, Tom had already left for the party and I was still looking through the meagre clothes that Tom and I had. We had three outfits each, Hogwarts uniforms and Orphanage uniforms being compulsory and Tom had his Sunday best that the orphanage forced him to wear every weekend to go to the church in order to 'force the demon out of him'. I, on the other hand, had only the clothing that my mother had left me.

Or, more specifically, the very same clothes that she had birthed Tom and I in.

Wonderful.

Unfortunately for Tom, the only appropriate clothing that he could wear was his Sunday best- the same clothes he had buried as deep into his trunk as it could go- although it wasn't the traditional Wizard's robes. Tom had sacrificed the bad memories that the starchy garments gave him and instead went to the party with his head held high, his fringe neatly combed and his Slytherin tie- the only Hogwarts clothing he chose to wear with it- around his neck.

I looked despairingly at the dress. Whilst the stains of childbirth had long since been washed off, the dress still caused me to feel dirty somehow whenever I wore it- whether because I was wearing the clothes of a dead woman or because it had once been awash with internal fluids, I was unsure of- and I had only ever wore it in the orphanage. But I had no other option- I couldn't come in with my starched, grey orphanage clothes- especially considering the fact that everyone here seemed so very medieval that it seemed taboo to wear a robe above the length of your ankles. My skirt reached my calf- it seemed indecent to wear it. I couldn't wear my Hogwarts uniform for obvious reasons. I sighed.

Mother's dress it is.

I shed myself off my school uniform and literally slithered into the dress that my mother had lent down to me with a look of disgust on my face. The dress brushed the floor and I had to roll up the sleeves, though I was likely to fit into the dress within the year if I did hit my growth spurt. My mother clearly wasn't a very tall person.

The ruffled blouse that had long since had its pleats flattened out was admittedly loose on my flat board figure. The blue pinafore I wore was plain, the only thing speaking of value being the small embroidery on the corner of the dress.

Just a small initial.

MG. Merope Gaunt.

The second I saw it, I was enraptured yet again in a world where my mother hadn't left us in the orphanage, having lived instead and taken us in. I shook my head a few seconds later.

It wouldn't do well to dwell on dreams.

The dress clearly came from at least four decades ago. It gave me a pretty good shot at what my mother's age would have been if she'd been fitted with this dress at around my age- she would probably have been in her late thirties or early forties by the time she'd given birth to us.

Late mother indeed.

I slipped my feet back into the patent shoes that weren't really patent at all anymore, having been reused three times over by other girls before me. The glossy covering of the leather had worn down to its bare foundations and the shoes were bursting at its seams. I shrugged- the dress would cover it anyway.

"Here goes nothing, Katherine." I muttered to myself. "Just hope that Tom won't blow his fuse over this..."

•••

I could hear the giggles, soft music and conversations coming from the room before I even entered. Our potions classroom had been converted into a ballroom, with all of the tables pushed to the side. The stairs were decorated with twining ivy and the room, which had previously appeared clustered when I attended the classes, suddenly seemed massive.

I felt so very small.

Despite my perceptions of myself, the music immediately stopped when I walked in. The students- and I was surprised to note that there were a few Ravenclaws and even a handful of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs among the majority of Slytherins- were silenced. Their half- masks were donned elegantly upon their faces, the girls with their hair done in elaborate styles and in large frocks whilst the men were dressed in either traditional Wizarding robes or Muggle suits. When I self consciously played with my waist length hair, which had been allowed to tumble in messy waves, the students cast me disdainful looks, their eyes roving from my tangled long hair to the shoes that had somehow traitorously revealed themselves. There was suddenly a small hustle and a small boy emerged.

I swallowed.

"It seems like my sister was looking for me. Excuse me whilst I go and help her." Tom said, a polite mask on his face. I could see the cracks starting to surface, however. I saw his eyes turn red and a rush of air left my lungs. I tried to run back the way I came from, but I tripped over my mother's dress and fell down the stairs.

Tumbling, stumbling down and down...

I eventually hit the floor on my bottom, no major pain on my body apart from major humiliation. Everybody burst out laughing, their taunting mocks stinging me worse than a dagger could. I flushed a furious red and got up, determined to run when a hand clasped around my wrist. I looked up sharply, embarrassment and anger on my face whilst those tears spilled from my eyes and onto my cheeks. I distantly heard Slughorn calling over the crowd, but only saw the fury in Tom's eyes.

"You're coming with me, sister dearest," He hissed, his voice laced with venom. "And you'll make sure that no such _mistake_ will happen again, do you understand?" I jolted in fear and tried to wrench myself out of his iron hand, but he held fast, his expression becoming from emotionless to a falsely sympathetic face. "Not so fast, Katherine Merope." He said, his voice apparently filled with fond exasperation. He cupped my cheek with his hand. "I will need to punish you accordingly, my sweet sister." His voice was filled with false gentleness, but I knew better.

"I'm so sorry, Tom, so sorry, so sorry-"

"That's not good enough, Katherine." He answered, a delicate smirk on his face. I trembled. "I want you to beg me with my name- my real name."

"Promise you won't hurt me?" I whispered. The crowd was still chatting, the occasional clink of two glasses slicing through.

"I promise."

"Then please, Voldemort, please. Don't hurt me." I pleaded. The arm that held my elbow travelled down my forearm and jerked it. I gasped in agony. "Y-you said you wouldn't- wouldn't hurt me!" I stammered. He leaned forward to me, his eyes glinted.

"Guess what?" He only gave a seconds pause before his other hand pulled my hair. I closed my watering eyes- the pain was too much. "I lied." He turned on his heel and pulled me through the crowd, attracting the attention of many people. Many gave approving noises and hoots of agreement on Tom's side, the boys shouting that a girl like me deserved it with the other girls shrieking in laughter. We eventually left, the pain throbbing into instant, burning torment. He pulled me right through the hallways until we reached the common room and he threw me to the floor, his eyes holding nothing but contempt. He drew his wand.

"No! Please!" I curled up into a ball, despite the throbbing in my scalp. "Please don't hurt me." I whispered. There was a minute pause- almost as though Voldemort was trying to assess the situation- until he spoke again.

"Where is the money?" He asked, his voice full of barely contained rage.

"What money?" I managed to breathe. He looked even angrier- if that were possible. He snarled and spat obscenities in Parceltongue, his hatred conveyed through his curses though he didn't direct it to anyone in particular.

"Get to our dorms. NOW." He shouted. I jumped to comply, leaving him well enough alone.

What on earth had just happened?

I ran to our dorms like hell was on my heels, tears streaming and muscles screaming. I could hear his feet pounding after me and I pushed harder until I ran into our dorm. I heard a whistling crack of magic pass my ear, but managed to dodge it.

I wasn't so lucky the next time.

It hit me on my leg, and I cried out. However, I pedalled harder, hoping the next wouldn't hit my head.

_Just a bit more..._

I reached our dorm and slammed the door shut, leaning against it as I tried to regain my breath. But then I heard clicking.

" No, no, no, no!" I span around and pounded on the door. " NO! You can't leave me like this!" I punched the door again, my skin breaking and blood leaking out of my knuckles. I stopped, shallow breathing reaching my ears as the dorm that had once been my safety became a prison. I was suddenly hit with enlightenment and whipped my wand out. " Alohomora!" Nothing. No click. No squeal of worn hinges. " ALOHOMORA!" This door needed more than a simple unlocking charm... I turned around, desperately searching the room with my eyes for a textbook- anything that could give me more complex instructions. A charms book caught my eye and I flipped it open, hoping against hope that I'd find something- anything- that could get me out of here.

_Flick._

Cleaning charms.

_Flick._

Beauty charms.

_Flick. At last!_

" Alohomora..." I murmured, reading the title. I felt my emotions rush out through me, disappointed anguish coursing through instead.

There was nothing.

I gave a cry of frustration and picked up the chair nearby before hurling it at the mirror above the cold fireplace. The mirror shattered, shards of glass hitting my face and piercing my skin. I was oblivious to the pain, filled with my own anger at my brother.

_Voldemort had never been so active before._

Of course, Tom's eyes had occasionally been red, but I never thought much of it, dismissing it as a small irregularity that we both seemed to posses. But Voldemort was quiet back then. My thoughts were interrupted when the shards rearranged themselves on the mirror and fixed themselves again. Irrational immaturity taking over, I threw the chair at the mirror, again and again and again.

Shatter, fix, repeat.

Just like the way Tom controlled my emotions.

With a final shout of anger, I tossed the chair for the last time at the mirror.

It fixed again.

Sighing, I briefly wondered how the chair stayed together through the whole ordeal before a distant part of my mind told me that it was probably a strengthening charm. Looking up again at the fixed mirror, my eyes met with the bloodied face of a girl who looked like a war victim, thin but long scars slicing across my cheeks, forehead and nose.

_Would this be how I'd look like if any World War does, indeed, break out yet again?_

Trembling, though I was unsure of whether it was of anger or utter, desperate sadness, I collapsed onto the wicker chair, burying my scarred face in my hands, ignoring the sharp sting when my hands made contact with the wounds. I finally pulled my hands down my face- as though I was washing it- and finally felt something.

I was laughing.

I didn't know why.

I was laughing so hard. My sides were starting to hurt- as though there was a vice around my waist. Tears were streaming down at the same time, the salt bring pain anew, and I knew I looked like a mess of tears and mucus, but I didn't bother to stop myself. If anything, I laughed even harder.

Because I knew I would break down if I didn't.

A fist pounded on my door.

" Shut up, Mudblood!" Someone fumed. I vaguely recognised the voice as Mulciber, the rough voice having mocked me only moments before at the party.

So the Slug Club had ended, then.

" No one tells my sister to do anything." A new voice hissed.

_Tom._

There was utter silence, and my laughter stopped. I could imagine the whole scene, having seen it enough times at the orphanage. Tom would stare down at the person who dared insult us until they scampered away like mice, apologies being repeated over and over again. As expected, heavy footsteps pattered away and the door clicked open. Tom walked in, almost as if though he had to wrestle a dragon to see me. Once his eyes made contact with mine, I knew he thought an apology from my side was in order. I almost snorted.

If there was one thing that Tom and I shared, it was our stubborn streak.

A moment of silence stretched on between us, though it felt like a millennium to me.

" Well?" Tom prompted, his voice filled with the same iciness he presented himself to the other Slytherins with. I flinched.

I hated myself for it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: World War Two is looming on the horizon for our favourite twins... and there is tension between them... What will happen next?**

**I hope you all enjoyed!**

**Please review; Tom will give you a hug and kiss if you do :)**


	5. Chapter 4: Child of the Devil

**A/N: Hello! Here's a (late, sorry) New Year's Present!**

**patches7: **_Thank you for your input; it is much appreciated :) Thank you again, and I just wanted to say it was a pleasure reading your stories _

**J.F.C: **_That is a really good idea... I was going to make her better after she time travelled (SPOILER: Something happens before she is sent through time that makes her better) though, as my summary had demonstrated, she isn't going to be friends with Harry Potter or any Gryffindor any sooner. Oh, and you're welcome :) Thank you for that, I really liked that idea, much appreciated that you allow me to use it :) I'm sorry I can'r make an equally long response, it's seven in the morning and I have to get to school, but thank you a lot :)_

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* * *

><p>" If you expect an apology, then you won't be receiving one." I answered, just hoping that my voice would sound just as chilly, but winced once my voice broke on the last few words. Tom regarded me with a cold look in his eyes before brushing past me and carefully depositing something covered in white cloth on my bed.<p>

" This is what you will be wearing the next Slug gathering. I expect you to look your best and to present yourself in the most elegant manner possible." He told me, his eyes still holding a small amount of ice within them. I noted the red flecks in his eyes, but, unlike before, it seemed insignificant. I had long come to the conclusion that Voldemort was my brother, also, so the only thing I could do was accept both Tom and Voldemort for the way they were. " As for your refusal to apologise, I admire that when you use that tone around others, but not to me. I will allow it to slide for now and won't make you apologise, but I expect you to be a lot more refined from now on, so that no regrets would ever be made in the first place. Am I clear?" He asked. I swallowed heavily, but nodded my consent.

" Crystal." I rasped.

" As for the money. I understand that you had no idea what I was talking about?" Tom gave a moment's pause for me to stay on track with what he was saying, but didn't give me enough time to answer. " You need not worry over that. I had recently discovered that a certain Black had stolen it for his own needs. I left a few Galleons on your bedside table for you to trade with another girl for a dress with a note on top. I appreciate that you'd never found out about it, but I'd prefer it if you didn't come in with Mother's dress, much less the very same that she'd birthed us with."

" Yes, but they didn't know that, did they?"

" No, but the invited members of the party knew full well that the dress you were wearing came from the 1890's- even the Purebloods had identified that." Tom argued, his eyes glinting dangerously. I bit my lip before I made another tactless remark. Tom carried on. " The dress," Tom gestured to the cloth covered thing he deposited earlier in my bunk. " belongs to Lily Abberth, a Muggleborn- but a powerful one. She is the great granddaughter of a Muggle- Baron Abberth, who left her a hefty sum of inheritance money. As of such, dresses are replaceable for her. She allowed you to have it, not to borrow, but to keep." He walked over to my bunk and picked up the covered dress. " Do not wear it or even open it yet- I'd prefer for it to remain pristine for when you create your new impression to redeem your tarnished one from today." Tom gave me a meaningful look, as if though to ask me if I'd keep to his rules.

"Yes, Tom." I said, quietly. He had a smug grin on his face. He put the dress on the bed again and made his way to the wicker chair I was sitting on before planting his hands on the arms of the chair. I shifted away uncomfortably from the sudden close range. "Tom?-" He ran his hands across my face and I felt the wounds close up, the previous pain dulled to nothing. I knew there wouldn't be any scarring- Tom always ensured that the final product was perfect, after all.

" You understand that I care for you, don't you?" He asked. I nodded my head out of fear. He hummed, reaching out to play with my loose hair. " And that I... love you?" He added. I stared into his crimson eyes, my answer resolute.

" Yes. I know that you love me." I answered, without hesitation.

A flash of green in his ruby eyes.

He smiled.

" Good." And he turned around and left the room, leaving me in a confused daze.

•••

The very next day I found out who this elusive 'Lily' was when Tom met up with a pretty girl in the year above us.

_She looks familiar..._

He kissed the back of her hand courteously and she gave a soft giggle. I placed an emotionless mask on my face when she turned to face me.

" Hello! You must be Kathy!" She exclaimed, her voice showing her prestige through her cultured accent. I forced a smile on my face, attempting to hide that twitch in my eyes once she named me by with the nickname that only Tom called me by. I will admit that I am unused to kindness from another person aside from Tom.

" _Katherine_." I seethed, annoyed at the nickname.

_What is it? What is that link between her and my memories?_

" Pleased to meet you." I gritted out. Being the Gryffindor she was, she ignored my slight hostility and extended her hand. I shook it. Her palm was pleasantly warm- a nice change from the freezing Slytherin common room. I let go of her hand.

" You both look so pale. Are you ill?" She asked, her voice holding her anxious worry. I understood why she gave that dress to me.

She was just too kind.

" No. We were always this colour." Tom answered, his voice polite and quiet.

_Lily Abberth...Where had I seen her before?_

I don't think Abberth noticed the warning red flash in Tom's otherwise emerald eyes.

" Oh, poor you!" She said, her slightly childish face pitying us. Tom's eye twitched slightly. " Were you kept from going outside? I understand how bad an orphanage must be- I live close to one, after all-"

" Wait, what?" I interjected. She gave me a curious smile.

" Why, yes. Wools Orphanage, I believe it's called."

•••

_So, so cold._

_I shuddered in the freezing snow, my weak body up to ankles in snow. My lips were blue and my fingers were showing signs of frost bite._

_I have to push on... For Tom._

_I lifted my newly cut head, the unfamiliar hairstyle reminding me of why I was here._

_I'm a boy, now... My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle... I'm a boy..._

_A man passed by and I latched onto his tail coat._

_Wealthy._

_" Please..." I whispered. He looked at me with disdain before yanking his coat out of my hands, causing me to fall over in the process. I allowed tears to fall on my numb face, staring bitterly at the tall, posh town houses when my eye caught a little girl sitting on the window sill. She was six- a year older than me. She was looking at me with wide eyes, her face curious. She lifted her window before poking her head down._

_" Why are you down there?" She asked. Her voice was reminiscent of her rich clothing- her nighty was made out of silk and lace. Her face was a kind one, with blue eyes and brown hair and a pleasant face._

_" Because I have no money." I answered. She frowned._

_" But Daddy says that only violent street men are homeless." She said. " You're not a man; you're a boy... and you're not violent, are you?" She added. I laughed._

_How I wished I was that naive._

_" No, I'm not." I agreed. She smiled at me._

_" You must be cold... Come in, I'm sure Daddy will be happy if I make a new friend..." I shook my head._

_" I can't... I'm from the orphanage and if I don't get them food or money then we'll be going to bed with a hungry stomach." I disagreed. She frowned yet again._

_" You mean...__that__orphanage?" She asked, gesturing to the tall building down the lane. I nodded._

_" That's the one." I nodded. She looked conflicted for a moment. The next minute she smiled again._

_" Wait here." She slid the window down. She left her bedroom, but from there I couldn't see what was going on. A few moments later, she left her house through the front door, holding a wicker basket. I gasped. I could feel the warmth from here._

_" Is that?-"_

_" Yes." She answered, proud of herself. For a moment I considered telling her that her father would be angry with her, but my selfishness took over. I took the basket from her offered hands and lifted the red and white chequered cloth. Nine loaves of freshly baked bread and two parmesan cheese wheels greeted my eyes and I felt air escape my lungs._

_" Thank you." I breathed. She gave me a small smile._

_" You're welcome." She gave me a hug. I stiffened. She pulled away, not noticing before giving me a soft kiss on the cheek. " Merry Christmas." She whispered. I swallowed, unused to the contact. I briefly felt sorry for her. I had lied to her by giving her the impression that I was a boy and I knew full well that children of aristocrats are taught how to look for potential partners. I sincerely hoped that she wasn't considering me, a girl, of all people._

_Not that there was anything wrong with swinging that way._

_" Merry Christmas to you too, Miss-?"_

_" Abberth. Lily Abberth." Lily Abberth. The great- granddaughter of Baron Abberth._

_" Merry Christmas, Mistress Lily Abberth." I said. She paused, as though expecting me to do something. I refrained from sighing and kissed her on her cheek. She smiled at me._

_" 'Till we meet again." She whispered._

_" 'Till then." I answered. She smiled and turned before walking back into her house. I looked up at the stars, thanking God for Lily Abberth's kindness that was not often found in rich children._

_" Well, Tom," I whispered, staring at the window to our room in the orphanage down the lane. "Looks like we have something to eat after all."_

_•••_

I stared at Lily with open amazement.

" Abberth... Lily Abberth..." I whispered. Her face was the same as when she was younger- the only thing was that she had definitely matured. She was as pretty as ever, her hair in plaits and mine, to contrast, in my monotonous pony tail. She looked confused.

" Yes, that was my name." She frowned.

" 1931, Christmas Day... You showed me kindness..." I whispered. She looked confused before a sudden understanding encompassed her face- and was that a little bit of embarrassment?- and she gasped.

" You..." She whispered. " You were a boy..." She swallowed, tears in her eyes. " I loved you." She turned on her heel and ran, sobbing. I groaned and smacked my forehead on the nearest sturdy obstacle that happened to be in my way.

Turned out to be Tom.

" I hate my life." I moaned. He looked down at me and smirked. I growled. "Don't act so smug, a girl fell in love with me and I just rejected her. She thought that I was a boy for half of her lifetime." Tom's smirk widened. I hissed at him.

" This is, indeed, one of the stickier situations you've gotten yourself into, yes." He answered. I groaned again.

" Understatement of the year."

•••

Before we knew what had come upon us, Tom and I had resolved the issues (though I was sure that there was going to be more) and pushed on with the day. I'd forgotten all about Lily's confession this morning and instead made my way toward the loo. If there was one thing that the Hogwarts' feasts were, it was rich. I sighed and pushed the door open, ignoring the sniffles in the room. Myrtle had already made a reputation as the one girl who a) over dramatised b) cried a lot and c) had a very sensitive ego. As a result, she was one of the school's main targets as a victim. I would have helped her, had I not been so cruel, but I already knew how it felt like to be ostracised and I didn't want that to happen to me yet again because I chose to make friends with the wrong person. I opened the tap and splashed the water onto my face before staring at my reflection and grinning.

" Hello, gorgeous." I muttered, smirking and running my hand through my pony tail. I undid the simple hairstyle to do it again once I saw an unruly curl in my hair, my vanity taking over when my nose suddenly inflated and turned a violent red. Eyes wide with horror, I stared at the rapidly extending nasal structure.

" I dispute." Someone answered. I whirled around. A girl in fifth year, I assumed, was standing at the doorway, a smug smile on her face and her wand extended. Embarrassed, I clutched my nose. She chuckled and undid the charm. I felt my nose shrink down again. My cheeks flushed, I voiced my fury at her.

" What in the name of the seven heavens was that for?!" I exclaimed. She smirked, stroking her tie.

_A Hufflepuff casting spells at a vulnerable first year?_

She must have noticed my eyes on her tie, because she sneered.

" I'm a misfit- someone who doesn't belong in any of the houses. So I was sorted into Hufflepuff." She smirked. " So you're gorgeous, are you?" She asked. I flushed harder, if that were possible. " Well, I can tell you that you're vain, self centred and egotistical. I can tell you that you're pathetic and don't even fight against your brother. I can tell that you-"

" Shut up." I gritted out.

" Well, there you go. Egotistical. Don't care about other people's opinions." She leaned against the doorway.

" You're probably just some jealous Hufflepuff senior. Oops, my bad- you're a _Mudblood_," I pronounced the word painfully clearly. "aren't' you?" I sneered at the girl, but immediately regretted what I said once she threw a swinging fist toward my face. My mind screamed at me, telling me not to dodge it after all of those years of drilling spiteful words into my head ( "Bastard child!", "Whore!", "Bitch!", "Prostitute!") but my body's instincts said otherwise.

I was too late.

Her fist collided with my eye. Sharp pain resonated through my head.

•••

_" It wasn't me who did it, Miss!"_

_•••_

She took another swing at my other eye.

•••

_" Please, Miss... Trust me... Don't let him hurt me..."_

_•••_

Blind. I was blind.

•••

_" Miss, please... please... It wasn't us... Please, don't hurt us..."_

_•••_

I screamed, though I was unsure of whether it was because of the pain or because I was desperately trying to get someone's attention.

_Oh God... No... I thought I left this behind at the orphanage..._

I was silenced by a backhand across my cheek. I could feel my skin being torn open; I knew her long fingernails had left blood and ripped skin in its wake.

" Fick dich!" I shouted at the girl.

_Okay, I used German to swear. So shoot me._

" G- German." She stammered. I sneered at her- well, I hoped I sneered in the right direction.

" Our orphanage hired a bilingual man to teach us German, so what?" I spat.

" L-language of G-Grindelwald." She stuttered before she, I assumed, ran away judging by the rapidly fading sound of clicking heels.

This is going to tarnish Tom and my reputation forever.

•••

I didn't know how long I lay prone in the bathroom, since I wasn't going to risk falling to my death if I happened to take a wrong step at the moving staircases, but I could dimly hear someone's horrified scream reverberate across the walls of the bathroom. I was numb to it all, having felt only the sticky blood that surrounded my head and my eyes, but I could feel the rustle of clean sheets being shifted around me and I was lifted from the wet bathroom floor.

_Wet? I either must have let the tap running or bled more than I'd previously thought..._

I could feel the inertia once I was lifted, gravity still pulling me down despite being suspended off a cloth. I tried to lift my eyelids, but they felt like they had been burnt, so I stopped attempting almost immediately.

"KATHY!" Someone shouted.

" TOM!" I tried to yell back, but all that came out was a wet gargle. I spat the liquid out.

I tasted blood.

I could distantly hear his struggle, knowing that there were people holding him back.

"KATHERINE!"

" Mr Riddle, would you please refrain from-"

" GET OFF ME! I NEED TO SEE MY SISTER! KATHY!"

He kept trying.

It broke my heart.

" KATHY!"

A thud.

Silence.

•••

I awoke in the hospital wing. I still couldn't see, though I had a feeling that the bruises were healed.

_They probably put some sort of potion in my eyes to heal them._

I could vaguely recall that I knew the name, but sluggishly shrugged it off in favour of ensuring that no pain was felt.

Hands.

_None._

Chest.

_Lingering, but largely numb._

Eyes.

_Again, numb._

I tried to shuffle off my bed, but fell off the side.

" Oomph." Winded, I grasped at the bed frame to pull myself up, but was assisted by calloused hands.

_Who's this?_

" Back to your bed." Said a feminine voice that spoke in a no-nonsense tone. I couldn't scramble up on the bed. After a few moments of trying, the woman took pity on me and hooked her arms under my legs and my neck before lifting me. I, unlike I would have if anyone other than Tom had picked me up, let her lift me and put me on the bed. She gasped. "Good grief, you're severely undernourished !" She exclaimed. " What's your name, girl?" She asked. I swallowed.

"Katherine. Katherine Merope Riddle." I answered, my voice rough.

_And don't you dare call me by another nickname._

She hummed.

" You're one of the twins of Slytherin? You can't be one of the Prewitts, you're not in Gryffindor. And you're certainly not a ginger..."

_Although, more than once I had wished I had the striking hair colour_.

_I have to learn the glamour charm some day..._

" When can I leave, Miss...?"

" Rosemary. Madam Rosemary. You may leave once I repair your vision and given you nutritional potions."

" But-"

" If you do not then your growth can be stunted severely. No, you shall listen to me. Lie back and allow me to fix your eye sight." I sighed, but did as she said.

" _Fine._" I whined. I settled back onto the bed when I heard murmured spells. I furrowed my eyebrows and waited for the spell to take effect.

I opened my eyes.

_Sight._

I didn't thank her.

She huffed.

" Children these days..." She turned around and went to a potions cabinet. "So rude."

" I can hear you, you know." I said, annoyed. She shook her head.

" You need to watch your mouth. That tongue of yours may have been the thing that got you into this mess in the first place." She turned around, potion in hand. " Now, drink this." She ordered, brusquely. I pursed my lips.

The taste of those potions were rumoured to be legendarily disgusting.

" Open up, girl." She ordered. I shook my head, furiously. She attempted to grasp my chin, but only ended up with a curled fist.

My breath hitched, mind cast back into the past.

_Don't hurt me..._

_•••_

_" Miss- it wasn't me- I can swear it-!"_

_" Was it Tom, then?" She asked, sharply. Mrs Cole's eyes were surprisingly lucid for the amount of gin she drank today, but her body co-ordination was not. I opened my mouth to deny it being him, but she had already pinned Tom down as the saboteur. " TOM!" She bellowed._

_He ran down the stairs and appeared before her, head bowed and hands behind his back, as innocent as possible._

_" Ma'am."_

_" Was it you who committed this act of devilry?!" Her other hand gestured toward the rabbit, hanging innocuously from the rafters. The hand that was firmly in my hair pulled my black strands a little to punctuate her question._

_I hissed in pain._

_Tom's eyes were stony up until that point._

_" Yes." He spat, eyes flashing red. " Now let go of my sister." She didn't comply- only pulling my hair further._

_" You- you piece of filth! You son of a whore!" She shouted, drunkenly. Tom barely flinched out of shame, not for his act but of who his mother was. We were unsure of whether our mother was a divorcee, widower or a prostitute, based on her lack of spouse, but people seemed to have assumed the latter. " You're a devil's child; and I'll make sure you know it!" She threw me to the floor. " Briggs!" She swayed dangerously. " Briggs, come down here you fu-"_

_" What?" The caretaker blinked at her before his eyes followed her line of sight. His optics was suddenly filled with malice once he laid eyes on us. " Job done." He said, before Mrs Cole even instructed him to beat Tom. He came lumbering toward Tom, who looked ready to scream. Tom tried to curl in on himself, sliding down the wall before curling his arms over his head. I jumped up and ran, throwing myself in front of him._

_" Don't. Touch. Him." I spat. He moved to push me away but I got to him first. I kicked him right where it hurt most. He keeled over, howling in pain before Mr Briggs' eyes narrowed._

_" You'll pay for that, little girl." He hissed. I snarled at him._

_" Try me."_

_Pain._

_I grasped my right cheek, where he hit me around the face._

_" She should have told me that you were going to be here before I hit that devil-child again." His voice was venomous._

_Again?_

_This had happened more than once to Tom?_

_" If you want to hurt him, you'll have to get through me first." I managed to say. I allowed my eyes to rove across the caretaker- from his oversized feet to his muscled, bulky torso and his mean face._

_" No problem." He picked me up, kicking and screaming before throwing me at the adjacent wall._

_Agony lanced through my very being._

_I heard a scream- but I was positive it wasn't me._

_Tom..._

_" Shut. Up." Briggs pushed down on Tom's stomach with his foot with each syllable. Horrified, I tried to get up but fell back down again, alerting Briggs of the fact that I wasn't unconscious._

_He strode to me, knuckles cracking before he extended his left fist._

_It was the last thing I saw._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh no- what's going to happen next?**

**Pretty please review! :)**


	6. Chapter 5: The Light In The Darkness

**A/N: Hey! **

**Apologies for the long wait, I hope this chapter was worth it :)**

**J.F.C: **_As the author, your input is incredibly important to me, so I will never ignore you :) I hope you like this chapter, though there will be some weaknesses, but I hope you'll be able to notice which one is slowly starting to become a natural talent (hint: it is a subject, and is shown when she has difficulty in Transfigurations :) I was intending to bring this up later on, but I decided that you were right since her weakness may be the reason why the amount of people who read and do not review are slowly starting to increase... _

_Anyway, your input, as always, helped a lot and is appreciated :) _

_Looking forward to your next comment,_

_~ Annika_

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><p>I woke up, exhausted beyond belief. I heard a distinct rustle beside me and felt a hand that slid into my own.<p>

" Mmm?"

" It's okay, Katherine."

" Tom?" I asked. The hand tensed up.

" Lily."

" Oh." My eyes flew open and I sat up. Just as the girl had said, it was her that sat at my bedside and not my brother. I tried to ignore that stinging feeling of hurt. I briefly considered asking her where he was, but shook my head.

_That would be rude._

" Why are you here?" I asked. She bit her lip and lowered her head.

" It's just..." A tear escaped her eye.

" Lily, it's okay." As if though it was magic (which was ironic considering the fact that I was a witch), Lily burst out crying. She leaned into my shoulder and I awkwardly rubbed her back.

_Eugh. My shoulder's wet._

" Um... It's okay. You're okay. We're all okay. We're all good." I stammered. " God, I'm horrid at this..."

" You could have died! And the last thing I did was run from you..."

Ah. It was that.

" Don't be stupid, Lily. I'm not offended." She started shaking harder, as if though she was just crying more.

_What?_

_' Don't be stupid...'_

_Oops._

" No, wait, I didn't mean it-" She pulled away from our embrace, face red. It took me a while to recognise and process that she wasn't crying harder, but was laughing.

" You minx." I playfully jibed at her. She calmed.

" Your brother confronted the Hufflepuff."

" Oh?"

" He's being kept behind by Dumbledore. He believes that it was a racist attack, but I know it isn't... I mean, you and your brother don't think we're _Mudbloods_, do you?" I bit my lip. I hated being the hypocrite. I shouldn't have called that Hufflepuff a Mudblood. I didn't even know what had possessed me at the time. " _Do you?_" She asked again, her voice thin. I shook my head. She sighed in relief. " Thank you. You're the nicest Slytherin I know of."

" You're welcome." I answered, quietly guilty of double crossing the girl.

" I need entry. My sister was hurt yesterday."

_Tom._

" So you must be Tom Riddle. Katherine's twin brother, I presume?" Madam Rosemary asked.

" You have presumed correctly." Tom answered. There was a second of silence when the double doors were opened. Tom stood in the doorway, his expression hard. The second they closed behind him, however, he looked so utterly lost that I couldn't help but compare him to the Tom Riddle of our youth.

The four year old boy that sought comfort from an unforgiving matron.

The four year old boy who hadn't yet been tainted by the world.

The four year old boy who didn't yet have a proper bond with his sister and instead preferred to play with other boys whilst his sister was pushed from girl group to girl group; always the third wheel in their friendship circles because she didn't want to have ribbons in her hair and play with dolls or discuss boys with teenagers.

The four year old boy who was suddenly pushed away from a friendship that was once warm and inviting but had grown cold, stale and harsh because he had a gift that other children couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The same four year old boy who was pushed away with his sister because of their first ever display of magic and was forced to create a bond stronger than any other with her.

A bond that made him feel overprotective of her because of their past.

Even when in another environment altogether.

Tom's eyes finally locked with mine. The second our eyes met, he ran into the room before literally throwing his body onto mine. I felt something wet fall on my right shoulder and a small sniffle. I held him tighter.

" I thought- I thought you were-"

" Shh. Don't speak." I whispered. He clung onto my body as if though I were his lifeline.

" I won't let go of you again. Ever." I felt an involuntary shiver travel down my back at those words. " I promise." I said nothing, holding him whilst he cried.

_I won't let you go either, Tom. _I thought. _But you house another soul within you._

_And that's what scares me._

•••

We'd returned to classes with that lesson that the fifth year had taught me fresh in our minds. As much as I hated to admit it, it was partially my fault that I was attacked in the first place. I'd taunted her and the name I'd given her was uncalled for. I couldn't even bring myself to say it. I sighed.

" Miss Riddle, have you had a late night last night or am I too boring for you to pay attention to?" Dumbledore asked sharply. My head shot up.

" No, sir!" I answered. He looked at me suspiciously before he dragged his attention back onto the self-writing chalk on the black board.

" With enough practise, you should all be able to transfigure a ceramic bowl into a kettle whilst casting the heating charm, which I believe Professor Flitwick has already taught you." He tapped his lion- adorned hourglass. " Begin."

Within the midst of indefinite amounts of incantations, Tom had done this perfectly whilst I failed. I did not wish to allow Dumbledore to see my mistakes, but I had no other option. The only thing I was able to cast was the heating charm.

" When did I get so bad at Transfigurations?" I whispered. Tom did not answer. I could remember trying again and again at levitating the match stick whilst turning it into a needle, but I'd succeeded eventually. I couldn't do it again afterwards, but surely that must have been because I wasn't in the classroom- and therefore not in the correct mindset...

" Miss Riddle, it seems I clearly wasn't entertaining enough for you." Dumbledore said, almost absentmindedly. I swallowed, but didn't meet his eyes, stubbornly keeping my optics on the bowl in front of me. Dumbledore walked around the edge of my table and leaned down until his periwinkle eyes were level with mine. I met his gaze without a flicker of emotion. " Do you require me to talk it through for you?" A flush of violent red came to my cheeks. The class laughed, presumably because they were witnessing a Slytherin blush.

" No, sir." I answered. Tom cut in.

" I'll be able to teach her, sir." He said, his voice honeyed. Dumbledore didn't fall for it.

" I do not require any of your assistance, _Tom Riddle_." He hissed, vexation clear on his wrinkled face.

_How I wished to pull his auburn beard for that._

" Right, a circle then a lightning bolt. The circle is to transfigure the ceramic bowl and the lightning bolt for the heating. Say the incantation with me." He instructed, his own wand in front of him to demonstrate what he was saying.

I tried. But failed. Once again, I'd only succeeded in the heating charm and nothing else.

Dumbledore hummed.

" It seems that you lack the proper finesse for Transfigurations, Katherine Merope Riddle. Which is peculiar, since I specifically remember you being thirteenth to complete the matchstick-needle transfiguration." He gave a meaningful look at Tom, who stared stonily back at him.

" What are you insinuating, sir?" He asked. Dumbledore was equally as impassive.

" I'm insinuating that you cast the transfiguration for your sister once you saw her failing." He answered. Tom pursed his lips. I started to feel worried.

" Tom?-"

" I don't give a damn." Tom hissed, his voice almost lapsing into Parceltongue. I stared at his eyes.

_Blood red._

He swept his arm across his desk and all of his books came flying off the table. The class gasped. He stormed out.

" Tom!" I shouted, standing up. He slammed the classroom door shut. The windows shattered and re-fixed themselves. I went after him, but Dumbledore's voice stopped me.

" Sit back down, Miss Riddle." He ordered. I span around.

" No."

_By the name of the King, I am going to regret this..._

I ran out of the classroom, slamming the door shut after myself. I knew Dumbledore had opened it again to call after us in a fit of rage.

My suspicions were proven correct.

" Mr and Miss Riddle, if you do not return to the classroom-"

" No!" I shouted again, running faster and harder than I'd ever done in my life.

_Dumbledore isn't following me. _

I managed to glimpse a flurry of black.

" Tom!"

I ran towards it, breathing heavily.

" Tom!" I turned the corner, only to find my brother on the floor, his hair greasy and his skin taut against his face. " Oh God..."

_A Boggart..._

" Please." He whispered, his right hand outstretched. His whole body was emaciated and he was dressed in tatters, the clothes bearing so many patches that it was impossible to tell whether it was mostly clothing or repair. Despite my knowing that it was a Boggart, I let out a sob and outstretched my right hand also.

" Tom_._" I was staring at my very nightmare, his eyes so filled with pain that I wished I could end it for him. " _Tom._" I repeated, fear in my voice.

" Come closer... Please... If you ever loved me..." He rasped. Trembling, I took a hesitant step forward. " Closer!" He urged me. " Embrace me. Allow me to feel your warmth. Your life." That snapped me out of the trance, but by that time, the Boggart was already too close. It grabbed my arm and the thing twisted and turned, blackened and smoked until it was another form altogether. I stared in morbid, terrified fascination at the being.

A tall man with a hairless head stared mockingly down at me, his ruby red eyes taunting me with the fact that I'd fallen for a trap- and I knew it. His serpentine features were smooth, but struck instinctual fear inside of me, every line- every crevice of his face was designed to make one quiver in utter terror once you gazed upon his hellish face. His black robes billowed ominously about his rail-thin body, further adding to the fear that I felt. I hadn't seen the man before, but I knew- _just knew_- who he was by his eye colour.

_This was Lord Voldemort's true form._

" S-stay away from me." I stammered, my wand at hand but useless at that stage, as I was too scared to recall the spell that banished the Boggart.

" Or what?" He asked, his voice holding that trademark hissing. I noticed- with a sense of both disgust and fright- that his tongue was forked. I shivered.

" I- I-"

_Come on, what did Professor Merrythought say in her speech about Defence Against the Dark Arts?..._

" You cannot say anything," He taunted. " This castle is so big that no one will hear you scream."

" Lies!" I shouted. " You're lying! My brother will find me- and once he does you will be nothing but dust." I knew that chance was slim, though. He took a step forward and I scrambled away. That made him chuckle coldly, his laughter humourless.

" Do you believe that? Do you truly believe that he'll be here to save you- when you can't even protect _yourself?_"

" I- I can." I whispered, though my voice was wispy; weak. He hummed, as if though he was bored of staring at me and wanted to investigate further under a microscope. That very thought made me feel uncomfortable.

" Prove it." He said, silkily.

" Riddikulus." Someone said smoothly behind me. I span around. Tom was standing behind me as if though he were there all along, pocketing his long yew wand. He looked deeply troubled once I turned around and put his hands on my shoulders. " Are you alright, Kathy?" He asked. I nodded mutely. He could tell I wasn't, though. He sighed and picked me up bridal style. I clung to his school robes like it was a lifeline.

" Don't let go of me, Tom." I whispered. He smiled sadly.

" I never will."

•••

The teachers were in a huff the next day. Apparently Professor Merrythought had accidentally forgotten to put her Boggart away after she'd taught her third years and was waiting for someone to stumble upon the rogue predator. All of the other professors shook their heads at her and sighed before continuing with their lunch, which we found amusing since she looked as if though they'd given her a slap on the wrist before starting to ignore her. Tom, ever the brightest, had the foresight to box the Boggart up before giving it into Professor Merrythought. She wasn't a bad professor, per se, she was simply extremely forgetful. I wondered if Longbottom lived up to her standards...

Following on from giving the Boggart in, Professor Merrythought had remarked that she liked Tom for being a mixture of all houses. Tom, perplexed, asked her to elaborate.

" What I mean, Tom, is that you have the friendliness and hardworking in class of a Hufflepuff, the intelligence and thirst for knowledge of a Ravenclaw, the chivalrous of a Gryffindor and the neatness and cunning of a Slytherin. These are the best things a teacher could possibly find in a student such as yourself. You're going to go far, son," Merrythought looked thoughtful as she stuffed tobacco again down her cigar pipe. " Very far."

_There are smokers in the Wizarding World? No matter how much they romanticize smoking in the Muggle world, making it look fashionable, inhaling all of that smoke can't be good for you- surely the Wizards had found that out by now. If inhaling smoke from a fire is bad for you, then why wouldn't inhaling smoke from a cigar be just as bad?_

" Thank you, Professor." Tom said, quietly. I could see the gleam of a new idea in his eyes, though. Merrythought smiled lazily.

" My pleasure, my boy. Now run along. Wouldn't want me to get-" She started coughing all of a sudden. A disgusted grimace flashed on Tom's face before he covered it up with a polite smile. " Caught, now, do we?" Her voice was hazy.

" Take care of yourself, professor." Tom and I said simultaneously. Merrythought nodded, tapping her pipe against her knee, scattering ash on the floor.

" I will, children."

•••

" This is perfect, Katherine." Tom said, his voice hurried to match his fast pacing. I furrowed my eyebrows.

" Pardon?"

" What Merrythought said to us a quarter hour ago. She'd basically given us the formula for the perfect student." He said, his voice excited. " If we play our cards right then we can have the teachers wrapped around our little fingers." I lifted an eyebrow. I didn't see the virtues in being a teacher's pet.

" Dumbledore is too far gone, Tom." I pointed out.

" I know that. He'd probably have seen right through it, that old nutter." Tom murmured. He raised his voice. " But what we do need to do is apply ourselves the same way that we do to Professor Merrythought. We already have Slughorn, Merrythought and Dippet, but we need Professor Borealis for Astronomy, Professor Babbling for Ancient Runes, Professor Flitwick for Charms, Professor Radius for Arithmancy- which we're definitely choosing for our NEWTS, by the way, it's a lot like Muggle arithmetic except with runes- and perhaps Professors Finnegan of Care of Magical Creatures, Lorcan of Divination, Smith of Muggle studies and Goodsole of Herbology."

" You've listed everybody but Dumbledore and Binns." I noted. Tom wrinkled his nose.

" Binns would only give us lectures on Goblin Wars. I certainly stay up and take notes, but I also go to the library to learn some real history. I find the story of Merlin and his twin sister Morgana to be the most interesting." Tom mused. I leaned in, interested.

" What happened?" I asked. He smiled and went to his bag, retracting an old and weathered tome titled 'The Magical History Of Wizarding Britain- 1860 edition." I gave a low whistle at its publishing date. " Wools Orphanage opened in 1863 for orphans who sought refuge from the factories and workhouses." Tom nodded.

" Yes. It's a shame that the recent matrons are so unforgiving, nowadays." He sighed. I nudged him before he'd go down memory lane. He shook his head and opened the book, flipping through pages. It wasn't until we found a bookmark that we stopped. " Here we are. 'Merlin and Morgana- Siblings Of Light And Dark'.

" Merlin and Morgana were twins- raised during the Wizarding Revolution when Muggles started to burn Witches for their magic and so called 'devilry'." My brother paused at the word.

_" Was it you that committed this act of devilry?"_

" Carry on." I said, quietly. He nodded.

" Not all Witches were as fortunate at magic as Wendelin the Weird. Not all of them were well educated enough to protect themselves, for the curricula in Hogwarts had only just started and only the previous generation had attended. As of such, many prominent wizarding families were destroyed; including the famous Labrynth bloodline which consisted only of witches and no wizards (for more on the Labrynths, refer to page 108). Morgana was amongst those most fortunate because she'd escaped. She'd been caught practising magic at the age of seven and was beaten- and presumably raped- before being taken to be burnt at the stake. It is unsure of whether she'd escaped or cast a charm similar to Wendelin as the eye witness accounts do not match with one another, but an account from Titan the Trustworthy was the one best used. According to his report, Morgana had been tied up at the stake but the second a Muggle approached her with a match she'd thrown her head back and shouted what sounded like curses and hexes to them, but was in fact incantations of a Water Elemental. The flame was put out by a large sphere of water and she'd managed to struggle out of the ropes. This evidence coincides with many witnesses from magical that had watched Morgana use her peculiar magic with water as they stated that her feats 'weren't accomplishable even with our magic'.

" As years passed, Morgana had gained bitter hatred toward the Muggles whilst her brother grew up in their defence. Wounded by her brother's decision, Morgana threatened to kill herself if he didn't join her. Merlin stood calm and said that he would join her over his dead body. Morgana had been reported to have been crying as if though in terrible pain later that day and wasn't seen or heard from again. Some believe that she'd kept her word and killed herself whereas others believe that she was the notorious Nimue of the Lake (refer to page 200 for more information about the Lady of the Lake and theories about this mystery), the first ever Dark Lady. Nimue was known to have had a daughter who she named Cercei Gregorovitch. All accounts of the two were that they were extremely close, even for a mother and a four year old child. The reason why many believe that Nimue is, in fact, Morgana is because she'd said that she'd turned to the dark because her brother betrayed her, which runs in parallel with what happened to Morgana. Moreover, Nimue was around the same age as Morgana- a mere sixteen when she had done her first raid- and had her daughter at the age of fourteen, as was custom at the time. Merlin was prophesized to kill her, and was trained rigorously by Godric Gryffindor despite being a prominent member of Slytherin house. He'd gone to war with Nimue only three years later, thus ending her reign of terror. Nimue was twenty four when she'd died, leaving her seven year old daughter motherless. Merlin had sent his unknown niece to her father, Gregorovitch the wand maker, who'd died a year later. Cercei was treated as a literal Cinderella by her step mother and four step sisters and two half brothers. She was fourteen when she'd helped a unicorn who was dying, having been shot with a bow and arrow by a Muggle. The unicorn died anyway, but not without giving her a wish. Cercei used that one wish as a ticket to freedom, but encountered the Prince of Wizarding England, Hadrian Slytherin, and fell in love with him. She'd gotten married with him, but he'd been killed by a Muggle a mere two years later when Cercei, who was fifteen at the time, was pregnant with her son. She'd given her child to the Gaunt family her child due to grief and trauma and therefore followed in her mother's footsteps and killed the Dark Lord at the time before rising up herself.

" Here is where it starts to get confusing. Cercei hadn't inherited her mother's elemental magic of water, but rather wind. It is believed that she'd fanned the flames during the Great Fire of London in her utter hatred of Muggles, but some accounts say that a woman whose skin shone silver in the flames with floor length black hair had held Lady Cercei as she wept bitterly. It is believed that she was the ghost of Nimue, the previous Dark Lady, but when her tomb was checked her body was no longer there. Cercei had brought her mother back to life for just one day and sacrificed her magic- rendering her a squib- for her mother. It is said that her mother had asked to see Merlin who was also deep in sorrow for he could have no children. Nimue had met with her brother and embraced him. She'd told him that she was, in fact, Morgana Le Faye, his sister and told him to look after her daughter and gave her to him as his own child. Merlin renamed Cercei as Morgana-Nimue but never once raised an arm in hatred toward her. Morgana had died for the second time that day and was put to proper rest in her tomb; her brother decorating it with flower garlands and ivy. Morgana's body had never decomposed, and you can still see her ethereal beauty in Clacton beach, England, inside a cave. Cercei; or rather, Morgana-Nimue; had a son with Afric Dumbledore who she named Afric the Second, whose descendant is the widely praised Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It is believed that her other child, of whom she had with Hadrian Slytherin, was renamed the infamous Morpheus Gaunt who was known because he'd married his adopted sister, and therefore started the chain of incest in the family. To the shock of the Wizarding World, as they hadn't known that he wasn't her blood brother, their children turned out fully healthy. Encouraged by this, the Gaunt family carried on inbreeding until today. Their children became vile and easily angered. The last living descendant today is Morfin Gaunt. And thus, ends the story of Merlin and Morgana- and indeed, her forgiven daughter Cercei, who had turned to the Light and repented for her misdeeds as a Dark Lady."

" But it isn't telling us everything." I whispered. Tom hummed.

" You're right. I wonder if they'd ever proven that Morgana was, in fact, Nimue or if they'd just assumed it... was it her story that paralleled with Morgana's that convinced them that she was her or was it their age and similar appearance?"

" It looks like a combination of all." I noted. " Do you think that Nimue is Morgana?" I asked. He frowned.

" There is a convincing amount of evidence that she is... But that could be the opinion of the author, set to sway us into their way of thinking. Remember, it might not be reliable. Most of the sources don't match up." Tom answered. I nodded in agreement.

" The one about her being burnt at the stake... We only have one man's word on that."

" And there is no evidence to support the fact that she had gone to Merlin."

" We haven't got the other perspective on Morgana- from Merlin's point of view."

" It seems as if though the author is... sympathetic toward Morgana."

" That's true. That makes it biased."

" Do you know what this reminds me of?" Tom asked. I shook my head. He gave me a rueful smile. " 1918, the murder of the Russian Romanov family. The monarchs." Realisation dawned on my face.

" The mystery of the Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov and Anna Anderson." I whispered. He nodded.

" Do you think we'll ever find out if Anna Anderson is Anastasia?"

" I doubt it. She was passed from asylum to institution. She was mad. There's nothing to say that she didn't dreamt it up or pretend for the sake of public attention and money. Besides, why would the rebels spare one of the daughters when they shot the rest? If they wanted to marry one of them to become the Czar themselves, they'd marry Olga, the oldest. Anastasia would be the last to inherit the throne, as she was the youngest daughter.

" But on the other hand, she did have the same foot condition as Anastasia. She also knew things that no one but members of the Russian Royal family would know. She also spoke many languages fluently, just as Anastasia did." I explained. Tom nodded. " This is what we need in Hogwarts. We need analysing in History of Magic, like we did in primary school. We need arithmetic and Muggle sciences." Tom smiled.

" And music, of course. I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano." An excited lurch found its way in my stomach.

" We could ask one of the teachers for lessons!" I exclaimed. Tom shook his head.

" They wouldn't take kindly to us changing the curriculum."

" No, I mean we can get private lessons from one of the teachers. At least one of them must know how to play an instrument. I know for a fact that Professor Borealis plays the harp."

" How do you know?" Tom asked, astonished. I smiled.

" He's got blisters on his fingers. This suggests that he either plays the guitar or another musical instrument. But I know it's a harp because I sometimes hear harp music coming from the astronomy tower when he plays. It's..." I knew Tom didn't have a concept of beauty, so I refrained from using the word 'beautiful'. "... relaxing." I looked up at the lake through the window. The moon's rippling silver light shone through, penetrating the dark green lake. " It's about time that we got to bed, Tom." I said, softly. He nodded.

"You're right. Good night, Katherine." He whispered, embracing me. I smiled and hugged him back.

" Good night, Tom." He broke away from the hug and climbed the ladder to the top bunk. I blew out the candles illuminating the room- there were six- and got into bed. I slid my eyes shut, thinking of Merlin and Morgana- of how their lives were like as children, of how Morgana was like and Merlin's refusal to join Morgana.

_The parallels between Tom and Morgana are shocking._ I thought_. Both of them were abused very badly. I just hope I don't end up like Merlin and refuse to be with Tom, therefore casting him into madness._ I shuddered.

_I won't let that happen to you, Tom. I'll find a way to free you from Voldemort. But until then, I'll need to act inferior. It seems like the only way to keep Voldemort and his anger away from you._

_For now._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Were you able to spot Katherine's strengths? What about your ideas on the chapter?**

**Remember, as my readers, you can tell me on what I can do to improve, but Kathy is on for a rocky road and she will rise and she will fall- sometimes with Tom, and sometimes without. I'm predicting that by the 9th-11th chapter we will have much more action and perhaps Katherine will-**

**BEEEP!**

**Spoilers! **

**Sorry, had to stop myself there. But I promise you that you will get what's on the tin by around then. **

**Until then,**

**Read, review and love!**

**Yours,**

**~ Annika**


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